


Masterpiece

by Markovia



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Crime Drama, Detective, Drugs, F/M, God these tags are all very serious., Guns, M/M, Physical Disability, Rough Sex, Serial Killer, Sex, Violence, fight, serial killer au, slight Namie/Izaya, sort of., vague convergence into canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:38:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markovia/pseuds/Markovia
Summary: Something's rotten on the streets of Ikebukuro. Heiwajima is assigned to a case he never wanted, the bodies are piling up and the taunting letters from the killer who calls himself 'Chrome' just keep on coming.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Now that Hunted is coming to an end, here's my next multi-chapter fic. It's a detective/serial killer AU, woohoo! This is just the prologue, first proper chapter will be up soon. Enjoy.

_ First, you have to acquire the meat. It must be fresh, glistening and wet, as lungs will quickly taint and become bitter. _

 

_ The method is painless. Spread the meat out on a sturdy chopping board, preferably wooden. Beat it with the flat side of a cleaver to expel most of the air. Trim out the main bronchi and cartilaginous parts. Slice meat into thin pieces and poach for thirty minutes in salted water. Drain the water and dry. Dredge with seasoned flour. Add slices to a pan containing chopped onions fried in oil until golden and cook together until the meat begins to brown. Add chopped tomatoes, chopped parsley, crushed garlic, salt pepper and a generous amount of white wine. Simmer for half an hour. _

 

_ Always cook with love.  _

 

_ Serve.  _

 

_ He raised a glass, fingers delicately holding the stem, inhaling the scent of his chosen red before letting it slip between his lips. A perfect match. After settling the wine glass back on the table, the dark-haired man shifted his weight forward, straightening his shoulders so that he could stretch his spine upward. He plucked his knife and fork from the table and twisted his wrists, mouth curving into a slight smile as the he watched the metal glinting in the candlelight. Sweet, gentle silence filled the air and he closed his eyes to enjoy the sound.  _

 

_ Another sound  - no, a noise - broke through the perfection, forcing Izaya to open his eyes.  _

 

_ He stared down the dinner table, lip curling in irritation. Wild, bloodshot eyes stared back at him. Strong hands were gripping the edge of the table, creasing the starch white cloth and undoubtedly cracking the expensive oak underneath. The blond man leaned forward, as if he were ready to run. Izaya knew that he wouldn’t be able to - he’d injected the man with enough sedative to halt a small elephant and there were thick metal cuffs chaining his arms and legs to the chair as a secondary measure.  _

 

_ With a sigh, he placed his cutlery back on the table and gently dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin.  _

 

_ “You will never enjoy the taste until you accept who you really are, Shizu-chan,” he said, throwing his napkin down next to his plate.  _

 

_ The blond man at the end of the table let out a ragged breath and his head fell forward. He eyed Shizuo silently as his shoulders began to shake. Suddenly, the man’s body lurched backward and his eyes rolled up under his eyelids. Saliva began to pour from his mouth and slid down his chin in a vile stream. His hands shook and his fingers flexed in and out, uncontrollably. Eventually, Shizuo heaved and violently threw up onto the floor in front of him.  _

 

_ Orihara tilted his head to one side, smirk pulling at one corner of his lips as he observed Shizuo suffer through another bout of sickness. Perhaps the cocktail of drugs had been a little too strong. When the tremors stilled and his breathing started to even out, Izaya picked up his glass of wine again and raised it in the air.  _

 

_ “You know all this time you’ve been trying to catch me instead of standing beside me. I hope you see the error in your actions now. We are not enemies, we are equals,” he continued, swirling the dark red liquid around the glass. “We are monsters, Shizu-chan.” _

 

_ Shizuo raised his hazy eyes and stared straight at him. Despite the effective drugs coursing through his system, Izaya could see hatred pouring out of that gaze and the weight of it excited him. He set the glass back down on the table and stood, brushing down his impeccably clean suit. A smile stretched over his face as he approached the sedated beast. There was red-tinged drool running down his chin from his open mouth where he’d clearly bitten the inside of his mouth. Izaya ran a hand lovingly through his mussed hair for a moment, then twisted the strands roughly between his fingers and dragged Shizuo’s head up to look at him.  _

 

_ “F-fu-” the blond stammered, trying to force out some semblance of an insult through the thick haze that slowed his extraordinary strength.  _

 

_ “Ssh, ssh,” Izaya cooed, raising his free hand to stroke over the other man’s face. He wiped some of the saliva away from his mouth and onto his torn-up shirt. There was blood staining the front of the white material, the result of a large wound that spanned from his left shoulder to his right hip. “You’re such a mess, aren’t you?” _

 

_ The blond let out another grunt and Izaya laughed highly, his fingers going slack in Shizuo’s hair. Gently, he wrapped both of his arms around the man’s head and hugged in close to his torso. The position would have been tender in any other situation but here it was a mockery of care. Izaya felt liquid soaking into his sleeve and smiled happily.  _

 

_ “Don’t cry, we can be monsters together,” he purred. When he began to affectionately kiss the blond locks beneath him Shizuo let out a noise akin to a sob and Izaya felt his pulse race joyously. “I love you, Shizu-chan.” _

  
  
  



	2. Occurrens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos, it's always appreciated! I'll be updating Hunted and PW later on today. :)

**Six months earlier.**

 

Shizuo checked his phone again and groaned at the time. Two hours on a train in the wrong direction, one hour back - he was going to get cabin fever at this rate. More than anything he needed a damn smoke. He peered out of the window at the passing cityscape, the endless buildings utterly indistinguishable from other he had passed a while ago. With a gruff sigh, he leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes. Shinjuku was two stops away, not long now. He rubbed his temples, trying to soothe the ache that was pulsing in his head.

 

More time ticked away and slowly the sun slipped behind the mountains in the distance until dusk fell and night cloaked the area. His mind ran over the details of ‘the case’, the one he never wanted, the one he’d been forced to investigate after tearing up the city’s infrastructure one too many times.

 

_ “You're a good detective Heiwajima and God knows we could use your strength in this hellbole but you got a foul temper on you. We can't keep spending out to cover for your shit.” _

 

_ “But Sir-” _

 

_ “Look, you've got the lead on this case. Pretty horrible shit but you've got a strong stomach, ain't ya?” _

 

_ “Yes Sir.” _

 

_ “Last chance, okay Heiwajima? Try and get this wrapped up before anyone else gets - well, you'll see what happened to the victims from the photos. No fucking up and no more damages or you're back as desk lackey. Got it?” _

 

_ “Yes Sir.” _

 

Shizuo grit his teeth together and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. No-one wanted this case, that's why they'd given it to him. No fingerprints, no DNA anywhere for that matter and the bodies yielded no real answers. He grimaced at the thought. The four victims were barely recognisable as human. It was undoubtedly the same killer - the way the bodies were hacked at and displayed were similar and the remains were always missing some random limb or organ. The papers blamed the murders on the Headless Rider, one of the more bizarre fixtures of the city but Shizuo knew for a fact that couldn’t be true. After all, the Headless Rider was a good friend of his.

 

The locations of the victims were scattered but never too far from Ikebukuro, thus Shizuo was inclined to believe he was local. But that was all he was able to deduce so far - the killer was intelligent and skilled enough not to leave any evidence behind. The blond tilted his head tiredly against the window - this case was a fool’s errand. The higher-ups had been on his ass since the fourth body had been found so any scrap of a clue would help. So far all they had was the letters and the pseudonym.

 

_ Chrome. _

 

That's what the letters were signed off with. Shizuo received the first one after the third body was found. He almost destroyed the entire office after reading the vile, taunting words scripted on that bloody piece of paper. They mocked him, called him  _ Shizu-chan,  _ like this was some kind of childish joke. There was too much detail,  _ graphic  _ detail about the murders for the letters to have come from anyone but the killer himself. The detective decided against making a public statement directed at ‘Chrome’ which only seemed to incite the villain further. More letters started arriving after that.

 

-

_ Shizu-chan, you disappoint me! Come on, catch me if you can!  _

_ - _

_ Shizu-chan is an idiot. You’re getting colder. At least talk to me.  _

_ - _

_ I saw you at the crime scene the other day, Shizu-chan. You're prettier than I thought you'd be, if a little rough around the edges.  _

_ - _

_ Shizu-chaaaan! I started looking you up online in between skinning the last one’s legs. It seems you're famous in Ikebukuro for being a mindless juggernaut. Destroying all those buildings, tsk tsk. More villain than hero, aren't we? _

_ - _

_ I watched a video of one of your rampages. The comments were rather amusing - ‘savage!’ ‘beast!’ ‘monster!’. Whilst your strength is impressive, you'll never catch me unless you learn to use your brain. Silly animal. _

_ - _

_ They call me a monster in the papers too, Shizu-chan. I know how it feels. I understand you.  _

_ - _

_ We’re both pariahs, Shizu-chan. Why don’t you join me? If only you’d let go of that ridiculous sense of justice maybe we could be monsters together.  _

_ - _

_ I won’t stop until you catch me or you join me. I won’t stop. _

_ - _

 

No-one ever knew how the letters got to his desk, they just appeared at random intervals. One even turned up when he dipped into the kitchen for two minutes to grab a coffee. No postal stamps, no return address, not even a to address. Just the words ‘Shizu-chan’ scrawled across the front of the envelope. The coffee he had been holding that day ended up scalding his hand after he clenched his fist too hard around the mug and shattered it.

 

The lead he was following up had come upon the suggestion of his lead forensic and boyfriend of the Headless Rider, Dr Kishitani Shinra. Shizuo had been working tirelessly for weeks on end with little to show for it and the pressure was starting to make him crack. Reigning in his explosive temper had been difficult, thus he’d been having severe headaches that almost blinded him with pain. It had been one of those times, when his vision was blurring and his teeth were grit together, that Shinra approached him and told him that he knew someone who might be able to help.

 

_ “Orihara Izaya. He’s an information broker who works out in Shinjuku. He’s a pretty intelligent guy and he knows all the goings on in this city. You should try talking to him, he might know something. Or at the very least he could provide some assistance.” _

 

_ “What? Shut up Shinra, my fucking head is killing me.” _

 

_ “Look, here’s his address. Tell him Shinra sent you and he might help. Actually, don’t say I sent you - that might be a bad thing! And here’s some painkillers, you look like shit.” _

 

Shizuo deliberated over the matter for a while but eventually relented and gathered a file to take to Shinjuku. He doubted this Orihara guy could help but anything was a help at this point. The train screeched to a halt and Shizuo heard a disembodied voice announce his stop so he gathered belongings and headed out into the night. Much to his chagrin it was pouring with rain and he didn’t bother to pack an umbrella. Luckily the address Shinra had given to him was only a few minutes from the station. Rain pelted against his skin as he turned his face to look at the high-rise buildings in the distance.

 

In the darkness of the night it was near impossible to see any detail to the hulking black mass that was the home of the information broker but even from the vague, shadowy outline, he could tell that it was gargantuan. Probably plush on the inside too, quite the opposite of his simple apartment in the centre of Ikebukuro. Fucking rich people, he thought, squinting to try and get a better view of the land in front of him. It was a short walk from the station to the entrance to the high-rise but the sheer volume of rain falling from the sky caused Shizuo to be soaked to the skin by the time he arrived. Eager to get into the warmth of the block and more than pissed off, he jabbed his finger to the doorbell. A loud shriek echoed inside, yet, even after five minutes, no-one came to greet him and no buzzer sounded. Eventually, Shizuo banged his fist against the shiny black door, taking care not to crack the wood beneath his hand, and found that it swung open upon impact.

 

Tentatively, he entered the hallway, finding it well lit and delightfully warm. The light was a little too bright and he found that it irritated his aching head only further. After gently closing the door behind him, he walked further into the cavernous room, mouth agape as he took in the incredible features. Two sweeping staircases lined the room which led to a large landing that led to another corridor. To his left and right were corridors, each containing a number of doors. The hallways stretched on and on in both directions, so far that he could only see darkness at either end. Straight in front of him were a small set of armchairs and numerous tables that were decorated with vases of lilies, whose scent lingered heavily in the air. Three elevators were set in the wall behind the flowers, each protected by shining silver doors. The floor was a black and white chequered marble, and the majority of the walls were a deep emerald green, though a number were simply a shining mahogany - each was lined with paintings. He stepped forward tentatively, unsettled by the sound of his footsteps echoing around the entrance hall. There was no-one around, no reception desk - it was a little creepy, he thought. As Shizuo headed toward the elevator, he failed to notice the set of eyes that watched him from the darkness of the landing at the top of the stairs. The blond pressed the button for the elevator but nothing happened, even after he rapidly jabbed his finger against it. It was then that he noticed the keycard reader below the call button -  _ dammit. _

 

"Hello?" he called, now stood in the centre of the room. No reply - simply the sound of his own voice echoing throughout the halls. Irritably, he turned to look back at the entrance door. Perhaps he should leave, head back to Ikebukuro for the night and return in the morning when his head wasn’t pounding so aggressively. He growled under his breath and rubbed his throbbing temples, thoroughly annoyed by the way the evening was playing out. The detective reached into his pocket and removed the small bottle of painkillers he kept there. Swiftly, he popped two into his hand and swallowed them, wincing slightly at the taste of the chemicals on his tongue.

 

"Hello."

 

Shizuo nearly jumped from his skin at the sound of another voice. He took a few steps back and looked up to see a tall figure standing on the landing. It was a man around his age, neatly dressed in a plain jumper and dark jeans. His hair was a glossy black and his skin was a pale shade of alabaster, sickly almost. The most startling thing about him was the colour of his eyes - they were a deep burgundy, quite an unpleasant colour that reminded the detective of dried blood. He was leaning against the wooden bannister, bent at the waist with one hand stuck under his chin, as if he had been observing Shizuo for some time.

 

"Sorry, I didn't see you there," the blond said, removing his gloves. He rummaged in his pocket for the piece of paper Shinra had given to him. "Um, I'm looking for a guy who lives on the thirteenth floor, Mr Oriha-."

 

"You'd be looking at him, Mr-?" the man replied, pushing himself off the bannister. He began to walk down the left staircase, never taking his eyes from Shizuo. He wore an odd expression - a friendly smile, with a strangely cold gaze.

 

“Detective Heiwajima - I’ve come from Ikebukuro. I work with someone who mentioned you may be able to help me with my enquiries," as he spoke he began patting down his wet hair. The man stood in front of him now, a little closer than he would have liked, in fact, his presence was a little unnerving. As he spoke, the man's smile seemed to widen and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

 

"I see. I believe you may have spoken with one Kishitani Shinra," he said, coolly. “He did not inform me he would be throwing my name around, Mr Heiwajima." Shizuo raised an eyebrow. He accentuated the reference to Shinra with a harsh tone and his upper lip curled slightly as he continued to speak. "Such a pest, the little shit."

 

Both his eyebrows raised at this remark. "Ah, I see. So, you’re Orihara, I take it?"

 

"Quite," he replied, quietly, as a smirk pulled at one side of his lips. "Izaya, if you'd prefer."

 

"Izaya," Shizuo repeated, nodding. "May I speak with you about a certain matter? Shinra said you might be able to help me source some information for the inve-"

 

"Not tonight," Izaya said, brusquely. "I’m afraid I have business to attend to this evening.”

 

Shizuo glowered at him. “When would be a more suitable time for you, Mr Orihara? It is an important matter, I might add.”

 

Izaya’s gaze flicked up and down Shizuo’s body, then came to rest at his eyes. “I could move my call to another time. I suppose it would be rude of me to cast you out into the rain as you’ve come all the way from the city."

 

"Quite rude, yeah," Shizuo growled, abruptly, unable to stop himself. Izaya's eyes glinted at his sharp remark and that unnerving, toothy smile appeared again. The broker jerked his head in the direction of the elevators.

 

"Do follow me, Detective," he eyed the blond’s wet coat and mussed hair momentarily before heading across the hall toward the lifts. "I take it you are here about the current goings on in Ikebukuro. Are you the detective assigned to the case? You look too young."

 

Shizuo scowled and followed the smaller man as he swiped his keycard through the reader on the elevator. This guy was testing his already worn-out patience. "Yes I am."

 

The information broker turned to face Shizuo as the doors slid smoothly open. The grin on his face had spread so widely that it looked almost like it would split his head in two. “How _ interesting _ .”

 

Shizuo blinked, astonished at the man’s impudent tone. It took all his self-control not to snap at Izaya, who was staring at him from across the elevator. "Shinra said you might be able to help me with my enquiries, is he right or have I wasted my time here?"

 

"I’ll need to know a little more information myself before I’m able to even consider helping you," Izaya replied. He cocked his head and smirked again, looking down at the ground and then back up at the blond. The lift creaked to a stop and a light flashed above the door. "I trust you’ve brought some details."

 

With that, Izaya turned on his heel and hea ded out of the elevator into the complete blackness of the hallway. Shizuo heard the faint tapping of his footsteps, fading into the distance. He grit his teeth together in anger and followed the sound until a burst of light appeared up ahead. Izaya was silhouetted by the brightness, just a sliver of black turning to face him. The detective winced at the sudden light, blood pounding so hard around his head that he could hear it whooshing past his ears. Izaya’s strange eyes seemed to shine in the gloom as he watched Shizuo approach and an unpleasant Cheshire smile spread over his sharp face.

 

“Do come in, detective, I’m sure we have much to talk about.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Virtus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy, bit of a forwarding chapter unfortunately. Sorry it's brief.

The information broker’s apartment was exactly how he imagined - modern, expensive, more like a stock-photo than a lived in abode. He briefly caught sight of a dark-haired woman slinking into another room but he decided against asking who she was. A girlfriend perhaps? Orihara sat down in the office chair behind a richly coloured wooden desk and directed him to sit on the chair on the other side. He offered the detective a scotch which he promptly refused, though if he wasn’t on a job he would have definitely downed the whole damn bottle. The lights in the apartment were harsh, slightly blue-tinged in colour and they exacerbated his throbbing headache terribly. Shizuo dropped into the chair and rubbed two fingers over his left temple as Orihara poured himself a drink. He would do this as quickly as he could then get home, today had been a fucking write off. Shinra would pay for wasting his time. 

 

“So,” Izaya began, placing the stopper back into the bottle. He took a sharp sip of the amber liquid and settled the glass beside his open laptop. His dark eyes locked onto the detective’s. “How can I help?”

 

Shizuo opened the satchel beside his feet and fished out the set of papers he had brought with him. He didn't like Orihara’s eyes, they were strange, unnatural. “I take it you watch the news, you seen the shit that’s been happenin’ round ‘Bukuro?”

 

The broker nodded. He still held the glass, fingertips delicately tracing around the rim. “I do.”

 

“Yeah, well I don’t really know why Shinra recommended you but he thought you may be able to help,” Shizuo grunted, laying the papers on the table. “There’s been some  _ correspondence  _ from the killer. He signs off as ‘Chrome’. You ever heard ‘a that before?”

 

“Other than the metal and the Google application, you mean?” Izaya asked. There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone which brought a scowl to the detective’s lips. He didn’t like this guy, he was smug and there was something  _ off  _ about him. Perhaps the way he held his spine almost perfectly straight, or maybe the obvious outline of the switchblade in his trouser pocket. Shizuo never cared about his personal safety, his skin was hard as diamonds, his blood thick and instantly concealing. There was no threat to him here, he thought. 

 

“Obviously,” Shizuo retorted. Izaya’s smile quirked down a little at the scathing reply, only the fraction of an amount. “I dunno if it has any significance to the killer but my guess is it’s a chat room, messenger handle, somethin’ like that. Tech haven’t been able to get much so far.”

 

“I see,” Orihara murmured. He tilted his head to one side and observed Shizuo carefully. “May I ask what this ‘correspondence’ is? There’s been no mention of contact with the killer in the news.” The detective hesitated and a particularly painful throb beat against his temples. He winced, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the information broker. “Do you have a headache, Detective?”

 

“S’fine,” he dismissed. He looked down at the papers and scowled, wanting to get the broker’s watchful gaze away from him. It felt like he was being observed under a microscope. “The correspondence hasn’t been released to the general public, nor will it be.”

 

“Would you like some painkillers?” Izaya asked. His voice was soft but not at all comforting, more like a unsettling hiss than a lull. 

 

Shizuo clenched down onto his knee with one hand and tried to refrain from gritting his teeth together. Annoying, he raged to himself, so fucking annoying. “No. I would like you to tell me if you’ve seen or heard anything about this ‘Chrome’ or these murders?”

 

Izaya’s serene smile descended into a smirk and his dark eyes glittered as if the detective’s obvious frustration was exciting him. He released the glass and settled both his hands in his lap. “Why yes, actually. I have.”

 

“You have?” the detective replied, feeling his stomach turn over anxiously. Perhaps this guy really could be a help, he thought, sitting up straighter. “I-”

 

“But I can’t possibly detail the information for you tonight, I’m too busy,” Orihara continued, waving a hand carelessly in the air. Shizuo’s mouth hung agape, shocked by his interruption. “It will take some time to write up what I’ve seen into a file for you. It’s all chat-logs, code, complicated things that I’m sure I will need to translate to  _ simple _ terms for you. Come back tomorrow at a more reasonable hour.”

 

“Have you heard of ‘obstruction of justice’,  _ Mr _ Orihara?” Shizuo growled, narrowing his eyes. “Because-”

 

The information broker coughed a laugh. “Of course. But you've come to see me late, on the whim of an acquaintance. You can't  _ possibly  _ expect me to have everything to hand, can you?” 

 

The detective’s face flushed red and the grip on his knee tightened to the point that he almost cracked his own bones but he held his tongue for the sake of getting what he wanted. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

 

Izaya beamed at him, clearly pleased with how pissed Shizuo looked. “Around six would be best for me. Goodnight,  _ Mr _ Heiwajima. I’m sure you can see yourself out, can’t you?”

 

Before Shizuo could reply, the broker’s gaze flicked down and his fingers began typing rapidly on the keys of his laptop. The blond couldn’t stop the agitated growl that rumbled in his chest as he stood up to leave. He caught the way Orihara’s lips curved up into a smile before he turned and headed to the front door but he chose  _ not  _ to give into his anger. Breathe in, out, in, out, he told himself as he placed his hand on the doorknob. 

 

Izaya’s voice called out from the other end of the hallway, full of unseen laughter. “Don’t destroy anything on the way home, detective! ” 

 

The comment set burning hatred alight in his stomach and before he could help it, he’d torn the door-knob straight out of the wood. Shizuo yanked open the door and strode out, throwing the piece of brass onto the floor behind him. Asshole could fix it himself. 

 

-0- 

 

He didn’t end up going straight home, despite the late hour. Residual anger made adrenaline run thick in his veins so he ended up calling a work-mate and  _ insisting _ they have drinks. As it turned out, she was already at the bar they frequented in Ikebukuro, halfway through a bottle of red wine and a box of cigarettes. Vorona was a dear friend of his, one he’d worked with since applying to the police service years ago. However, while he’d chosen to go down the investigative route, she chose firearms. She was brilliant at her job - ruthless as hell but by-the-book, so she never got into trouble like he often did. Thus, she’d progressed quickly through the ranks even despite her non-Japanese heritage. They hung out a lot as they only lived two doors down from one another in the same apartment complex and their relationship never waned, even after she changed departments. Perhaps it was the Russian accent, or the emotionless expression on her face but people didn’t warm to Vorona easily. Then again, people didn’t exactly warm to him easily either - perhaps that was why they appreciated the other’s company so much. 

 

When he arrived, she was slumped in their usual booth, cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth. Her face was already flushed from the wine but when she noticed him she held up a hand to indicated that she wanted more from the bar. Shizuo rolled his eyes but headed over and ordered two Old-Fashioned cocktails, their regular poison of choice. He approached the table slowly, careful not to spill any of their drinks and set one down in front of her before collapsing down onto the seat opposite. Vorona took up the cocktail greedily, despite the full glass of wine at her side. 

 

“Double parking?” Shizuo tutted, shaking his head. He slipped off his jacket and took up his drink. They both raised their glasses and clinked them together. “Cheers.”

 

“Cheers,” she repeated. She took a large gulp of the cocktail and let out a satisfied sigh. “Always good. Better than this shit.”

 

“That’s what you get for ordering the cheapest red,” he said, spinning the bottle around so he could turn his nose up at the label. 

 

Vorona shrugged and tapped her smoke into the ashtray in between them. “I smoke too much to taste anything.” 

 

“Amen to that,” Shizuo chuckled and slid a cigarette out of the box on the table. The woman pouted at him but he raised his lighter to the end and swiftly sparked the smoke to life. “Shut it, you’re always stealing mine. Why’re you out so late anyway?”

 

“It is not late.”

 

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

 

A small smile spread across Vorona’s face at the childish insult. “I am stressed. Was long day.”

 

“Something bad happen at work?” he asked, frowning. The woman took another sip of her drink, eyes downcast. “Outside of work?” 

 

She nodded as she swallowed the mouthful of liquid and stabbed her cigarette out. “Yes. Was- what’s is saying- um, was made single again?”

 

“Dumped?” he offered, taking a sharp drag of smoke. Its harshness burned his lungs but he didn’t mind, if anything it was calming his nerves. The headache was still there but it had dulled slightly to a gentler throbbing. 

 

Vorona sighed and laid her head on the table beside her drink. She let an uncharacteristic whine. “Dumped. Yes. Why this happen so much to me?”

 

Because you don’t show emotion to anyone but me, your rifle and your vibrator, he thought as he took as sip of his drink. He reached forward and petted her hair softly. “You just ain’t met the right girl yet, that’s all.”

 

She groaned and raised her head, batting his hand away. “Do not care much for relationship, am annoyed will have to find new partner.”

 

“For sex?”

 

Vorona nodded and Shizuo rolled his eyes. 

 

“You’re a nightmare, y’know that?” he commented, amiably. “If you-”

 

“How was your day?” she asked abruptly, clearly wanting to change the topic. He was glad really, his relationship advice was shit. 

 

“Weird. Might have a lead but the provider of said lead is a total fucking dickhead,” he complained, tapping out the ash from the end of his smoke. “So that's gonna be a ballache.”

 

“Still, lead is good,” she added. “You should come to firearms, Shizuo. Much better than homicide. You know I could still get you transfer.” 

 

He snorted derisively. “As if I could fire a gun straight.”

 

Vorona laughed softly. “True. But then you do not need guns to fight well.”

 

The man looked down at his hand and flexed it twice. There were still bruised and cuts running along his knuckles from the last fight he’d been in. “Hmm. I suppose not. You'd demolish me one-on-one though.”

 

“With a gun. You could probably punch hole straight through me.”

 

“Pfft, as if. You'd have shot me from the top of a building hours before I even had the opportunity to see you.” 

 

Vorona smiled and nodded. “This is true.”

 

“Anyway…”

 

The evening faded into casual conversation, more alcohol and bowls of wasabi peanuts. They were comfortable around one another, oddball friends who found solace in the strangeness of the other. The two officers laughed and joked and consoled not realising they were being watched from afar, through a window at the end of the bar, by a man with a curved knife up his sleeve and a nasty smile on his face. 

 

_ Tomorrow will be a busy day for you, Shizu-chan. Playtime’s over.  _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Fūror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to get very into this now! :)

Izaya strolled around his apartment with his head held high, a serene smile plastered on his face. He aimlessly flicked his switchblade open and shut. The knife shone brightly in the dim light of the room, the freshly cleaned metal glinting as dangerously as his smile. When he turned it, so that the flat was facing him, he could see his reflection staring back. There was a number of red spots splattered across his face, the remnants of someone else’s life. His hands were clean as he made a point of wearing gloves - it wouldn’t do to be caught before his task was complete. With a smile he picked up the bloody sack that was sitting on the kitchen counter and swung it over his shoulder. 

 

Izaya began whistling and made his way out of his apartment to the basement downstairs, letting the knife’s blade tap against each rung of the railing alongside the stairs. He purchased the basement area recently, under a different name of course, and it suited his needs nicely. There were four rooms, one holding the boilers, three empty for his use. The blade chinked pleasantly against the metal, beating out a deadly metronome alongside each step. It still fascinated him, how simple it was to switch states between life and death. All it took was a shot, a stab, poison, a chokehold - how easy it was. His tongue slid out of his mouth and lapped at a spot of blood that was clinging to his bottom lip. He was really starting to enjoy himself. 

 

After flicking his knife back into his pocket, he continued through the basement to a door at the end of a winding corridor, partially concealed by darkness. He typed in the keycode and waited for the click of locks turning behind the unassuming wood. He’d used the basement rooms as storage, or at least a facade of storage, so each of the three rooms were brimming with junk he’d picked up from side-streets and scrapyards. The door clicked behind him and a small red light flashed by the internal keypad to let him know that he was securely locked in. The informant hummed happily as he busied himself with lifting up the ornate, heavy rug that covered the concrete floor. Beneath the material, embedded into the floor was a metal hatch. He’d found this purely by chance, one day when he was exploring the basement as a potential resource, and it really was a marvelous discovery. With a slightly strained puff, he heaved the hatch open and peered down into the thick blackness of the shaft. It wasn’t too far down, only twenty feet or so, but the ladder was rickety and old. He made a mental note to replace it as soon as he found another reliable,  _ discreet _ handyman. The last one hadn’t been as reticent as he’d hoped. It wasn’t too hard to get rid of him, he was so thick that he didn’t hear Izaya moving behind him until the hammer was already in the back of his skull. 

 

He moved as quickly as he could with the sack still over his shoulder, nimble hands and feet flitting over the rusting rungs so fast that they barely touched them. The bottom of the shaft was pitch black but Izaya knew precisely where to raise his hand to find the light cord. It took a couple of seconds after he’d pulled on it a neon strip flickered to life around ten feet ahead, down a narrow hallway. It was cold that far down and Izaya was glad that he still had his fur-lined jacket on so he could pull it tighter around his torso. The cold was necessary, as were the thick walls and solitude. He stood beneath the neon strip and smiled at the view before him, eyes softening as if he were looking at a loved one. The bloody sack was dropped to the floor where it landed with a wet slap. The careless motion caused it to fall open and a few dead fingers curled out of the hole. 

 

Izaya ignored it and stared forward, drunk on infatuation. “Good evening, my Valkyrie.”

 

Five feet away, under another set of lights, was a hideous creation. On the floor, a glass case within which a number of severed limbs were suspended in frozen animation. The limbs were all different shapes, sizes and colours, clearly having been taken from a number of different victims. To the left, a freezing case that contained individual jars, only a few of which were full. Izaya moved past the jars, stroking his fingers over one which held contents which was labeled ‘Heart Valves’. Organs were harder to preserve - twenty-fours hours for the pancreas, kidneys and liver. Four to six for the heart and lungs. Luckily he wouldn’t have to worry about a brain. 

 

“How are you today darling?” he cooed, raising his arms animatedly at his sides. 

 

The object of his affection was placed on top of a desk in the corner, in yet another glass cylinder. A severed head, an abnormal, supernatural head. Izaya bent at the waist and placed his hands on the countertop so he could lean close to the jar. He placed a gentle kiss against the glass and drew back so he could look at the head. It was female, attractive, with ethereally pale skin and red hair. Izaya came into possession of the head around a year ago. He had been researching the CEO of a Pharmaceutical company, a woman named Namie Yagiri. The secrets he managed to uncover about her were damning, awful, so she was quick to bend to blackmail. She remained as head of her company, he took the head and any equipment he might desire from her large inventory. Namie despised him but he could tell that she was just as intrigued by his experiment as he was. 

 

He wrapped his arms around the jar in a gentle hug and gave a sigh. “I tried to get you another hand today. I thought I found a lovely specimen but when I got home I realised all the nails were bitten.” He straightened up and shot the severed limb on the floor a nasty glare. “So uncouth. How could I give you anything but perfection?”

 

The glare turned back into a happy smile and Izaya turned away from the head so that he could dip and pick up the sack. With a tut, he threw it into a trashcan in the corner. Perfection, that’s what he wanted. That’s what she deserved. He’d collected so many lovely pieces thus far, though a few had become unusable due to the amount of time that had passed. 

 

“Perfection! That’s what you’ll get!” he exclaimed, excitedly. He whirled back to look at the head, jumping lightly on his feet. “My beautiful dullahan! My gorgeous Valkyrie! And when you have the perfect body, we’ll attach your head, we’ll start the war we both want. And then, then my perfect monster, we can become gods together! I’ll give you perfection and you’ll give me power, won’t you?”

 

Izaya picked up the jar and began swinging it back and forth, dancing a sick waltz with his beloved. He cackled loudly, the harsh sound echoing off the sound-proof concrete. “And you know, darling - I’ve found you the perfect heart. I found it at last! The best heart, the strongest heart in the world!”

 

A vicious grin twisted his attractive features into ugliness and he pulled the head close to his heart as he thought of the blond detective, of his immense, abnormal strength. How inhuman his heart must be, he thought, a fitting final piece for his patchwork monster. Izaya closed his eyes and let his head fall back and he began to laugh hysterically, drowning in the ecstasy of his own thoughts.  

 

-0- 

 

Fucking hangover. When Shizuo woke the following morning, his head was pounding and Vorona’s arm was resting heavily on his face. The woman stayed at his when she discovered she’d left her house keys at work. It didn’t bother him, Vorona often crashed at his house after their drinking sessions. Shizuo groaned and sat up, pushing her onto her side. 

 

“Ugh, gonna be late,” he mumbled, getting to his feet. He was still dressed in the shirt and dress trousers that he wore yesterday, though they were now considerably more rumpled. Thankfully he had a spare set of clothes in his locker at work, so he decided to bear with the smell of sweat and booze for the train journey so he could shave off some time. 

 

Vorona rolled over to look at him through bleary, sleep-crusted eyes. “I have three days off.”

 

“Oh, fuck you,” the man grunted. He grabbed two fresh boxes of smokes from his bedside drawer and tossed one at the woman curled up in his sheets. “Don’t get ash on the sheets. Stay here if you want.”

 

“What time are you home?” she asked, with a yawn. She stretched out and rested her hands behind her head. “I could make dinner.”

 

Shizuo snorted. “I’d rather not get food poisoning again, thanks. But I got tomorrow off - I need a fucking rest - so grab a takeaway and some beers or something.”

 

“You want to watch romantic comedies?”

 

“Uh - do you?” 

 

Vorona nodded and pulled the covers up around her head. “Yes. Am feeling um, word escapes m- oh, sappy. And self-indulgent.”

 

“Whatever you want, princess,” he chuckled, grabbing his keys from where he had dropped them on the floor. “I’ll bring back a big bag of crisps and we can gossip about our sex lives.”

 

“You have sex life?” she smirked. 

 

Shizuo shot her a sarcastic smile then flipped her his middle finger as he walked out of the door. Thankfully the rain had cleared up but the day was still grey and miserable. Never mind, he thought to himself, at least the weather reflected how shit he felt. Getting drunk with Vorona was probably a bad idea, especially when he had to go and speak to that annoying information broker later in the day. The blond stuck a cigarette into his mouth and sparked it up swiftly. Somehow the smoke managed to ease his headache a little, as did the coffee he picked up before he got the train outside the station. By the time he strolled into his office, he was on his third smoke and he immediately headed to the coffee machine to refill his empty cup. 

 

Before settling at his desk, he dashed into the showers and began to change into the spare set of clothes he kept at work. Just as he was pulling on his shirt, he heard a gentle titter coming from the doorway. He whirled around on his heel and saw two faces peering at him from the other side of the locker room - Erika Karisawa and Walker Yumasaki, an excitable pair of youths who were part of the tech-team. They were both staring at him intently, then Erika’s gaze dipped to Shizuo’s bare chest and she let out a high-pitched squeal. 

 

“Look at all those scars!” Walker exclaimed, pointing across the room toward the blond. 

 

Erika clutched his shoulder and nodded feverishly. “He’s like-”

 

They looked at one another and started jumping up and down. “-Vash the Stampede!”

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled, mouth pulling down into a scowl. The pair were weird, really fucking weird. If they weren’t so good at their job, probably the best in the whole unit, he would have avoided them like the plague. They had an odd obsession with comparing him to various manga characters and their boundaries were  _ skewed,  _ to say the least. He shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it quickly, much to their disappointment. “Fucking perverts, what do you want?”

 

“Ah Shizuo, we’re just playin’,” Walker chuckled, his ever-present smile widening. “Anyway, we came to tell you something.”

 

“What?” he snapped, shoving his belongings into the locker. They chuckled again and their gazes slid to look at one another. He turned and leaned back against the closed door, folding his arms across his chest. “Look, I got a shit lot to do, so-”

 

“We found a trace of your fan’s pseudonym on an forum,” Erika chirped, clapping her hands together. “The-”

 

“Do  _ not _ call that piece of shit my fan, Karisaw-”

 

“Let her finish,” Walker cut in. Shizuo actually shut his mouth for once. There was an faintly sinister aura surrounding pair, which was odd considering they were twenty-somethings who spent most of their time on the internet or reading BL. He’d heard the rumours whispered around the station - they were moved from another department, something about turning a criminal’s flamethrower back in his own face. The truth was murky but the unsettling feeling they gave him made Shizuo believe that every single rumour was  _ true.  _

 

“Thanks Walker,” Erika smiled, patting his head fondly. She turned her gleaming eyes back on the blond. “‘Chrome’ appeared in a hidden chat room. We found the logs embedded in a forum that’s associated with ‘The Dollars’.”

 

Shizuo frowned. “Dollars? Like, the American currency?”

 

The pair nodded in unison, then Walker continued. “Sort of. You remember the colour gangs from a while back?” 

 

“Yellow Scarves and uh-”

 

“Blue Squares,” Erika finished, with a nod. “The Dollars are similar, except their ‘colour’ is clear, see-through, invisible. There’s no way of knowing who is associated with it until someone from the gang calls. They seem pretty confused about their intentions though.”

 

“And how is Chrome related to this?” Shizuo asked, raising a brow. “Are you sure that these ‘Dollars’ guys were even talking about the same person I’m lookin’ for?”

 

Erika nodded and glanced at Walker. Their faces went placid for a moment as if they were silently sharing a thought, then they broke out into gleeful grins. 

 

“It’s easier if we show you!” Erika laughed. 

 

Walker nodded in agreement and they both span on their heels and headed out of the locker room. “It’s definitely the same guy! We’ve never been wrong before!”

 

 Shizuo ran a hand through his hair. It was going to be a long day. 

 


	5. Videre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy. Next chapter will have their second meeting :) 
> 
> Flashbacks are in italics, as ever. I've also changed their tense just so it's more obvious! :)

“Are you meeting with that detective today?” 

 

The information broker looked up from his laptop at the woman who was approaching him. She settled a cup of coffee on the coaster next to his hand and fixed him with a cold gaze. 

 

“Why yes, Namie,” he replied, cheerily. He took up the coffee and winced as the heat burned his fingertips. Quickly, he placed the cup back down and returned the woman’s glare. “You could have told me it was hot.”

 

“I’d rather you get burned,” she stated, tonelessly. With a toss of her hair, she turned away from him and sat down on the sofa a few metres from his desk. Izaya jammed his burned fingers into his mouth and let his tongue lap at the soreness clinging to to tips. She started to aimlessly flick through a magazine that was on the coffee table, ignoring his intense stare. “It’s a bit risky, isn’t it? Bringing the detective here.”

 

Izaya popped his fingers out of his mouth and wiped the saliva onto his trousers. “Your lack of faith in me is tragic.”

 

“I was looking at his record,” Namie replied, delicately turning another page. “He seems competent at his job and has the added bonus of being the Incredible Hulk’s blond brother. You should be careful.”

 

“Aww, you worried about me, Namie?” he cooed, shooting her a nasty smirk. 

 

The woman turned her head to look at him and narrowed her eyes. “Of course not. But I know that if you go down, there’s plenty of evidence around to bring the police to my door. Evidence I’m sure you’ve made as obvious as possible.”

 

He grinned and tilted his head onto his knuckles, observing her closely. “You know me so well.” 

 

“Don’t fuck it up then,” she snapped. “You’ve dragged me down far enough already. Having to associate with the likes of y-”

 

“You dragged yourself down,” Izaya interrupted, smoothly. “I wasn’t the one who told you to start trafficking organs in and out of Japan.”

 

The placidity on her face broke into unpleasantness - Izaya liked it when she looked like that. Despite her beauty and intelligence, Namie Yagiri was quite the monstrosity. She always took the high-road when he discussed her ‘experiments’, her  _ murders.  _ Unlike his, Namie said it was ‘all in the name of science’, which of course he scoffed at. They both had admirable goals in his eyes and he knew that she must have some interest in the perfect, patchwork body in his basement or else she wouldn’t keep visiting. All he needed from her was her signature for ordering equipment and that could be done online, she didn’t have to come to his office at all. 

 

“You’re so funny Namie,” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair. The woman’s glare only grew fiercer. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Unlike us, Shizu-chan is an idiot. He won’t suspect anything here. I’m just helping him out.”

 

“By giving him clues toward yourself?” she answered, scathingly. She folded her arms over her chest and began tapping her fingers against her right elbow. “Seems idiotic.”

 

“Of course not toward myself,” he tutted, shaking his head. He looked at his laptop and smiled, touching a sore finger to the screen. A picture was set to the side of the window, of a sickly looking girl with long dark hair and staring eyes that were tinged with red. Haruna Niekawa was so easy to lay the blame on - abused by and in love with a lecherous teacher, driven mad by a demon blade, poor thing never stood a chance. They’d never met but he’d spoken to her online, taken the role of a sympathiser, told her that he cared. Though he never mentioned it to her, Izaya  knew about her ‘Slasher’ identity, in fact he’d chosen to start his killings just after Haruna began to cover up that there might be _ two  _ killers. He’d anonymously sent her the details for the Dollars chat rooms, he’d left traces of the victims clothing tucked away in her home, it had all be so easy to stack the evidence against her. All it would take was a gentle push and the detective would be led down the wrong path until Haruna was blamed and Izaya’s work was finished. The letters had been entirely of his doing, of course,  _ he  _ was the only one who got to speak directly to Shizuo. 

 

“No, I’ve shifted the blame to point toward someone a lot less inventive.”

 

-0- 

 

“So that’s it?” Shizuo asked, with a sigh. He raised his cup of coffee up to his lips and leaned back in the office chair that had been crammed into the tiny tech-office. “These chats logs don’t say anything of use, dammit.”

 

Erika rolled her eyes and continued to peel the wrapper from a lollipop. “You’re just not looking properly, Shizu-Shizu.”

 

The blond rolled his eyes and moved forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees. “Fine, what am I meant to be seeing? I’m not used to all this computer shit, so help me out.”

 

“Well, you see here,” Walker said, moving the cursor over a section of text. “What do you think this means?”

 

TARO TANAKA:

_ I don’t think the Black Rider has anything to do with this. _

 

SETTON: 

_ I agree! Do you think the Yakuza could be involved? _

 

BAKYURA:

_ Nah, slashing like that isn’t really their style. I think this must be something else entirely.  _

 

TARO TANAKA: 

_ Some ‘thing’? _

 

CHROME:

_ Could be a monster. _

 

BAKYURA: 

_ Hehe, as if. I was only joking. _

 

SAIKA: 

_ Whoever, whatever is doing this, it’s disgusting.  _

 

SETTON:

_ I agree. Who would want to aimlessly kill like that? _

 

CHROME:

_ Perhaps it isn’t aimless. Hasn’t anyone noticed?  _

 

SAIKA:

_ What do you mean? _

 

CHROME: 

_ Hehe. They were all so lovely, so loved, so wanting to be loved! _

 

TARO TANAKA: 

_ I didn’t know that the police released the victims names ye- _

 

CHROME: 

_ I love all of them! I can't help myself! I just have to cut them all!  _

 

BAKYURA:

_ They haven’t released anything, you’re right Taro.  _

 

SETTON:

_ What’s going on? _

 

**CHROME has logged off.**

 

Shizuo frowned. “If we are to assume that this person  _ is  _ the real Chrome-”

 

“Then they’ve given you a small hint,” Erika continued, nodding. “That they have a very weird motive.”

 

“They’ve all got weird motives,” Shizuo commented, standing so that he could move closer to the screen. He pointed at the handle ‘CHROME’. “Have you been able to trace any further details from this chat room?”

 

Walker shook his head. “Unfortunately not. The chat itself was hard enough to get into, they keep quite the lockdown on identities.” 

 

“To be expected,” the blond sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Never mind. You guys know any more about these Dollars guys?”

 

The duo shook their heads in unison. 

 

“No, but you should speak to Dotachin,” Erika said, popping the lolly from her lips. 

 

Shizuo tilted his head to one side. “You mean Kadota?” 

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“He still working Vice?” Shizuo asked, picking up his bag. “I thought he stayed in the office these days after the injury?”

 

“You know Dotachin, he can’t stay inside for long. Drives him mad! He’s working on the streets in general as the team is a bit thin on the ground. He’s pretty clued up on all the gangs in Ikebukuro, so he may be able to give you some information,” Walker answered. He swivelled his chair around and his fingers began typing swiftly over the keys. The screen began flashing, windows popping up all over the place. Shizuo took that as a cue to leave and headed for the door. 

 

“Thanks guys, good work.”

 

He turned to wave at them but they were already engrossed in whatever scripts they were running. Karisawa was lounging sideways in her office chair, feet propped up on Walker’s lap. The man hummed loudly and stroked her socked toes gently as one hand continued to type away on the keyboard. Shizuo shook his head and exited their small office, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

 

“Fuckin’ weirdos,” he mumbled, searching in his pockets for a cigarette. 

 

 

-0- 

 

Kyouhei was a friend from school. He entered the police at exactly the same time as Shizuo and Vorona and grew close to the pair of them. When they moved to their respective departments, Kadota decided he would be best suited to the Gang Investigation Unit. There had been an influx in the so-called ‘colour gangs’ and he did a good job in maintaining the peace in the city. Kadota was never one to shy away from getting involved, he much preferred immersing himself in the streets than sitting behind a desk. In fact, he had good relationships with many of the Yakuza syndicates - nothing sordid, but they respected him. He respected them too, if they towed the line. They helped him out with information a number of times. He was lucky that the Awakusu-kai were not fond of drugs on their streets, they often gave him names, faces, people to arrest. 

 

Not everyone was so keen on Kadota’s hands-on approach, which is why six months before he was run down by a car in the middle of the street. The man remained in a coma for weeks but eventually recovered, much to the relief of his friends and his pregnant wife, a dog-handler named Mikage. His right leg was damaged enough that he still walked with a slight limp and his handsome face was only somewhat marred by a nasty scar that ran from his left temple to the right side of his chin. Kadota didn’t seem to care that much and Mikage declared that she preferred his new ‘bad-boy’ look anyway. The perpetrator was still unknown. With Erika and Walker, two of Kadota’s closest friends, on the case it wouldn’t be long before the criminal was caught. Or more likely, knowing the two of them, they’d end up in several different bits in bins across the city.

 

Shizuo didn’t get a chance to see him that often but they met up a couple of times a month for a drink. The blond was determined not to lose the few friends he had, especially Kadota and Vorona. Their calm personalities worked wonders on his explosive temper. He decided to try and get to see Kyouhei between the tech-duo and the information broker, it would be better to get as much done today as possible so he could have some time to himself the following day. A break was badly needed. 

 

“Oi, Kyouhei!” he called, waving a hand in the air. 

 

The brown-haired man turned and pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on, giving Shizuo a bright smile. “Hey man.”

 

Shizuo grinned and held out a hand to shake but Kadota pulled on his wrist and dragged him into a big hug. The blond chuckled and clapped the smaller man on the back. “Where d’you fancy going?”

 

“Beer?” 

 

“On the job until later man,” Shizuo said, placing a cigarette into his mouth. “But believe me I would love a fucking beer. Coffee?”

 

“Sure thing,” he replied, turning on his heel. They began to walk in step with one another. “There’s a good place down here. Hey, you be about later on tonight or tomorrow? I’ve got a couple days off and Mikage is away with the kid visiting her brother so-”

 

“So you want to get blasted with me and Vorona, ‘family man’?”

 

Kadota rolled his eyes. “Eloquently put. But yes.”

 

“Actually yeah, Vorona got dumped again so we were going to have some drinks this evening,” Shizuo grinned, taking a short drag of his smoke. 

 

“Dumped  _ again _ ?” Kadota exclaimed, shaking his head. “Jeez, what’s she doing wrong?”

 

Shizuo snorted and smoke curled out of his nostrils. “Hell if I know. But I guess it probably has something to do with her poker face and general disinterest in other people.”

 

Kadota hummed in agreement. “She’s a funny old thing. You know I was always so jealous of how much time you got to spend with her. She was  _ always  _ sleeping at your house.”

 

“Yeah, passed out drunk on my floor or vomiting in the toilet,” Shizuo laughed, flicking his cigarette onto the floor. “Plus Vorona’s gay, man. She was never interested in me that way.”

 

They entered a small coffee shop and Shizuo was pleased to see that it was fairly vacant, there was only one couple sitting in the far corner by the counter. Kadota insisted on buying drinks, so then blond went to sit in a booth on the other side to the couple, out of range of most people’s ears. The other man came over and placed a large plastic cup down in front of Shizuo with a smile. 

 

“No offense man but I don’t think you need anymore coffee today,” he chuckled, sitting down on the opposite bench. “So I got you one of those sickly smoothie things you like.”

 

Shizuo grinned happily. “Thanks, I love this stuff.”

 

“Weirdo.”

 

“Says the guy drinkin’ a mocha-frappe-cino, whatever the fuck that it.”

 

Kadota smirked and rolled his eyes again. “So what can I do for you today?” 

 

“I wanted to ask you about one of the gangs,” he said, slowly. He took a sip of his drink and wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “The Dollars.”

 

The other man’s brow furrowed slightly, as if confused. “The Dollars? What you need to know?”

 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the case I’m working at the moment-”

 

“The serial killer?”

 

Shizuo frowned. “Yeah. The killer has been sending...letters. Signin’ them off with the name ‘Chrome’. Well, Karisawa and Yumisaki found a lead online. They found that ‘Chrome’ name in a chat room used by the Dollars. It’s not much to go on so far, but-”

 

“I don’t think your killer has anything to do with the Dollars,” Kadota stated, taking a sip of his drink. He settled the cup back in the saucer. “That’s not really what they’re about.”

 

“What do you mean by that?” Shizuo asked, raising a brow. “Ain’t they a gang?”

 

“Yeah but the gangs on these streets - Dollars, Blue Squares, Yellow Scarves - a lot of them are just kids who’ve gotten too big for their boots. I don’t think they’d be capable of-” he paused and swallowed. “-of the carnage your killer is causing. They also tend to run in packs, look after their own. The victims are just randoms, aren’t they?”

 

“There’s no obvious connection yet,” he replied. His mind went back to the conversation he had just seen on the chat room. “Well, there’s this thing about ‘love’ but I don’t really know what that’s about at the moment.”

 

Kadota rubbed the side of his neck with a hand. “The gangs don’t eviscerate bodies like that. And even if they did, it would be to provoke or take revenge against another group. There would be a trace of them around, an insignia or a colour or something. Or they’d publicly brag about it online.”

 

“You know them best, I ‘spose,” Shizuo sighed and ran a hand through his hair, itching for another cigarette. “Still, I thought I’d check to see if there was anyone I should be talkin’ to.”

 

The brunet hesitated for a moment, then began rooting in his jacket pocket for his wallet. “There’s one guy you could talk to, he seems to know everything about the city’s underworld.” 

 

He placed a small white card on the table and slid it over to Shizuo who took it up in his hand. It was plain white, nicely coated in a silky material, apart from two words emblazoned in gold. 

 

IZAYA ORIHARA

 

“Funnily enough I'm going to see this guy later,” Shizuo mumbled, flipping the card over. On the back was a number scrawled in pencil. He almost wanted to crumple the thing in his hand. “You know him?”

 

“Kind of,” Kadota shrugged, finishing his drink. “Info-broker, he helps us out with cases sometimes. I'm surprised you don't recognise the name, he was at school with us.”

 

Shizuo’s eyes widened. “At Raira?” 

 

The other man nodded and pushed his mug slightly away from him. “Yep. Different tutorial class though, so I never saw him much and even when I did I wasn't all that fond of him. Kishitani knows him a bit better than I do.”

 

“He’s an annoying little shit,” Shizuo grunted. “But if he can help, then I guess I'll have to put up with him.”

 

“The information he provides is usually pretty sound so he could really help,” Kadota replied. He rearranged his legs and Shizuo caught glimpse of a brief pained frown on his face. “But I agree, he’s a bit unsettling.”

 

“I can't remember him from school at all,” the blond said, pursing his lips. “It's a weird name too, I shoulda been able to.”

 

Kadota chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. “I doubt you would have gotten along.”

 

“Amen to that.”

 

-0- 

 

_ He watches from afar, he never touches, he never speaks to him. But oh, how he wants. Part of him is disgusted by the monster but the more he stares, the more he grows to like. The strong, sinewy limbs, bared teeth, the sheer power running tense beneath his skin - they make his hands tremble and he thinks he would love to own a perfect monster like that.  _

 

_ Izaya knows he’s acting out of turn, he’s being too bláse sending all these people after the blond he’s currently watching from the roof of the school but he finds he can't help himself. The beast keeps pushing back, he keeps meeting Izaya’s every challenge and the very idea of such strength excites him. It’s mad but, then again, Izaya’s sanity could never have been called stable. It’s starting to consume him now, the obsession with watching Shizuo, but he loves prodding, he loves interfering too much to stop.  _

 

_ “Now...hit!” he cackles, leaning against the railings. The unhearing blond below swings at a man twice his age and build, gets him right in the guts. Izaya claps his hands appreciatively. It's fun to watch Shizuo lose it, to make him regress back to an animal. “Hit! Hit! Hit!” _

 

_ Izaya leans away from the railings and presses a hand to his heart as he draws in a deep breath. The organ is fluttering fast and he can feel his cheeks flush with heat. He drops to the floor, back against the fence so no-one can see him and let's his eyes flutter shut as he listens to the roaring of the monster beneath him. With a heated groan, he hastily unbuckles his belt and slides his hand beneath the waistline of his trousers so that he can wrap a hand around his hardened cock. The monster keeps fighting, making such a din that no-one can hear Izaya whimpering and grunting as he frantically jerks himself off.  _

 

_ He loves this, he loves the violence and the noise. When he finally spurts over his hand with a ragged breath, he first utters ‘Shizu-chan’, over and over until his chest stills and his muscles go slack against the chain-link fence behind him.  _

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Periculum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will see the party at Shizuo's, a flashback and a meeting with the Headless Rider.

“You’re late. I have to be across town in half an hour.”

 

Shizuo narrowed his eyes and let out a breath of smoke. “Sorry, the trains were late.”

 

Orihara tilted his head to one side and motioned into his living room with one arm. The detective moved past him and heard the click of a lock turning in the door. Alone with this guy again, he thought, what a fucking nightmare. The trains weren’t late, he intentionally taken more time kicking his heels outside the building out of sheer reluctance to enter. By the way Orihara smirked at him as he breezed down the hallway, Shizuo had an inkling that he knew  _ exactly _ why he was late. 

 

“Never mind,” the informant said, leading Shizuo into the main room. “Please, take a seat.”

 

The detective went to take the same seat as last time, the one in front of the desk, but Izaya ushered him over to the sofa. The informant sat down on the armchair opposite, folding on leg elegantly over the other as Shizuo shed his coat over the back of the couch. There were a number of folders laid out on the coffee table, along with a set of crystal glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking whiskey. Two of the glasses had already been filled. 

 

“I shouldn’t drink,” Shizuo said, raising a hand. 

 

“Oh, but I insist,” Izaya replied, pushing a glass closer to the other man. “Besides, you’re not technically ‘on-the-clock’ are you?”

 

“I-”

 

The informant leaned back and as he did so he peered slyly up at Shizuo through his lashes. Shizuo noted the colour, as he had the first time they met. Such a strange hue, a nasty burgundy, so like the blood he saw dried up on the wounds of the victims that turned up in photographs on his desk each morning. The pupils were blown wide, making the red only barely visible about the edges and the proportions made Shizuo wonder what he was so excited about, or whether he was on drugs. His next comment brought out his thoughts, the snide comment enough to make his blood boil beneath his skin. “I was under the impression that you hadn’t spoken about my involvement with your superiors.”

 

Shizuo stiffened in his seat. Had he mentioned that the first time they met, he thought, brows furrowing in the centre of his forehead. With a slightly irritated sigh, he leaned forward and took the rim of the glass between his fingertips. Izaya grinned widely and picked up his own glass. Before Shizuo could lean back the informant had clinked their drinks together and leaned back to sip lightly from the cup. The blond frowned but his gaze dipped to the way Izaya’s tongue slid out of his mouth to lap at the errant drop of whiskey on his bottom lip. The sight made him swallow, an action which startled him somewhat, as did the slight heat that spread across his cheeks. Orihara’s smirk pulled up in one corner which troubled the detective enough to make him scowl. 

 

“What have you got for me?” Shizuo asked, tone turning dropping into a deep growl. “I spoke to my tech guys today about this ‘Chrome’ figure and they turned on something online too, so I hope I’m not wasting my time here.”

 

“You sound so dismissive, Detective. Let me surprise you,” Orihara tittered, resting his glass on his knee. He raised his free hand and began gesturing as he spoke. “The name ‘Chrome’ appeared on a site, a chat room, right? One associated with the Dollars, another one of those kiddy-gangs that like to frolic in the streets.”

 

The blond opened his mouth in surprise but when Izaya made a sharp motion with his hand he refrained from speaking and took a sharp gulp of his drink. It was delicious, obviously expensive. Part of him wanted to punch Orihara for the rude way he silenced him and thus Shizuo found himself draining the glass quicker than he expected, hoping the alcohol would soothe his anger. That, and the odd twisting sensation in his guts. He blamed indigestion or nerves - it was easier than trying to work out the real reason. 

 

“I’m sure you know this already. This happens to be a chat room that a  _ source  _ of mine is well acquainted with and happens to know that is such a thing as ‘private chat’ logs buried beneath the initial ones. So individuals can talk one-on-one rather than in public - if you’d call this sort of forum public in the first place.”

 

“A source?” Shizuo asked, raising a brow. Izaya nodded and pushed the bottle of whiskey closer to the other man, raising a brow expectantly. 

 

“Another broker like myself who will be remaining anonymous unless that information is required. Even if it is, I’m uncertain that even I would be able to wrangle his real name out of him,” he added. “Please, help yourself.”

 

Shizuo frowned, confused by the statement regarding the other broker. He decided not to press the issue for now and leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “So, what did these private logs say?” 

 

Izaya gestured to the folder in front of him with a delicate swing of his fingers. “See for yourself.”

 

“There’s a lot here,” Shizuo mumbled, flicking through the large stack of papers. It would take him forever to read through all of this - there was his day off gone. At least he could read through them in bed, most likely with a hangover. “Could you give me some bullet points for now? I’ll read through ‘em later.”

 

When he turned his head back up to look at Izaya, the man was pouring him another drink. The detective almost grimaced as he would have much preferred to get the information and leave as soon as possible but it felt rather rude as Izaya had gone to the trouble of preparing the file for him. His phone vibrated in his pocket - probably Vorona, wondering where he was. He’d asked her to meet him at the station so they could buy supplies for the evening together. After his meeting with Kadota, they’d picked up a few more waifs and strays and the night was snowballing quickly into an impromptu party. 

 

The glass was almost half-full by the time the informant passed it over, to which Shizuo raised a brow. Izaya chuckled lightly and pushed it closer with a long, slender finger. The detective observed him quietly for a moment, trying to place his face amongst the many he saw at Raira Academy. There was no-one that came to mind, which was odd as the man had a distinctive face. His features were still rather boy-like, pointed and handsome, but there was an oldness in his eyes. It wasn’t a wearied look, no, something else. It was the look of someone who had seen the parts of the world that should not be glimpsed, the disgusting areas of humanity that darkened the circles beneath the eyes and kept one awake at night. Shizuo assumed he had much the same look - the same look, but without the mad excitement glinting dangerously beneath the surface. 

 

“I thought I’d pour you a little extra seeing as you drank the last double like it was water,” Orihara hummed. “You seemed thirsty.”

 

“Thanks,” Shizuo grunted, swiping the glass up from the table. “So - the files?”

 

Izaya leaned back against the cushions, folding one leg over the other. “Well, to summarise: this ‘Chrome’ character speaks to another user, someone called Kanra. They’re both untraceable, that much is out of my remit I’m afraid. But I could take guesses. The two users are female - they talk about bizarrely girlish topics quite a lot. ‘Chrome’, whoever they may be mentions their love for someone named Takashi. Over and over they talk about them, how they’d kill anyone who would stand in their way of him, etc etc.”

 

“Takashi? Any other name?” Shizuo asked, sitting up straighter. He felt his pulse pick up in speed - finally,  _ finally _ , this might lead somewhere. “Any other detail?”

 

“Not really,” Izaya replied, giving a careless shrug. He began twisting the ring on his left forefinger with his thumb. “But if you were to ask me, I’d say you’re dealing with some sort of jealous lover. I’m sure you can read more about it in the file.”

 

Shizuo opened his mouth to ask another question but Orihara rose from his seat and tapped the watch on his wrist impatiently. He swerved around the couch, forcing the detective to turn himself around to follow him. 

 

“I’m very sorry Mr Heiwajima, but I’m afraid I really must be going. Are you walking to the train station?” Izaya asked, breezily. He picked up his jacket, which was hanging from the back of his office chair, and slung it over his shoulders. “I need to get to the other side of town before the night is through.”

 

“Uh- yeah,” Shizuo replied, standing up. He pulled his coat back on as the informant flitted about the apartment, picking up random objects here and there. Picking up the file, he headed to the door, Izaya trailing behind him. “Look, thanks for this. Your information was really helpful. How can I-?”

 

“Repay me?”

 

The smaller man’s footsteps stopped, which made Shizuo pause as well. He turned and saw Izaya staring at him, off-looking grin sliding over his lips. Orihara chuckled darkly under her breath and moved forward, raising a hand to fleetingly touch Shizuo’s chest as he crossed in front to the door. 

 

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he murmured. 

 

The words would have been inaudible had Shizuo not been holding his breath. In the still, in the silence, the detective tensed but the offending touch was gone almost as soon as he felt it and when he turned to look at Izaya, the lights around him were cut and all he could see was the informant’s outline in the shadows of the corridor beyond the doorway.  _ That image -  _ the shadowy figure in the distance, the slender outline, that was all he could pick from his memory. From the rooftop, or a classroom window, or the end of a darkened hallway - just a glimpse of a small shadow. Shizuo remembered all the times he’d felt as if he were being watched, scrutinised. He placed one of his own hands over the area Izaya had touched and blinked, as if forcing himself back into the present. 

 

“I-you-” Shizuo muttered. He moved forward, shutting the front door behind him. It was dim in the corridor but he was closer to Izaya now, a little too close for his liking, so he could see the man’s features again. Unsurprisingly, he was grinning. “Did you go to Raira?” 

 

Izaya nodded slowly. “Do you remember me?” 

 

“No,” he replied. The informant dipped his head as he turned as if the action would shield the way his smile dropped into a frown. “I don’t think so. Kadota mentioned he knew you.”

 

“Ah yes,” Orihara sighed, moving forward so that he could press the button for the elevator. “It’s been a while but I know Dotachin. I do hope he’s doing okay after the injury.”

 

Shizuo nodded, an action which went unseen by the other man but he didn’t further their conversation from there. They remained in silence for the entire elevator journey and the short walk to the train station. It was a muggy evening but thankfully without rain. Shizuo tucked the folder beneath his arm and rustled around in his coat pocket for his phone.  _ Five missed calls.  _

 

“Shit,” he grumbled, looking through his records. All from Vorona. Just as he was about to hit the call button, he heard his friend’s voice calling from up ahead. 

 

“Shizuo!” 

 

He looked up and saw the Russian heading toward him, waving a hand in the air. The blond greeted her with a big smile and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders so he could drag her into a hug. 

 

“Hey, sorry I missed your calls,” he apologised, releasing her. “Was in a meet-”

 

It was then that he remembered Izaya had been walking silently beside him and he turned to see the information broker standing stone-still behind him. His rust-coloured eyes were languidly roaming up and down Vorona’s body, his mouth drawn down in a small frown. Shizuo nudged him to bring him out of his  _ obvious  _ thoughts and the man blinked before a bright smile stretched over his face and he held out a hand to the woman. 

 

“Izaya Orihara,” he greeted, politely. “A pleasure to meet you.”

 

Vorona eyed him carefully then placed her hand in his as she told him her name. She drew her fingers back quickly, leaving his hand still partially raised in the air. Her gaze moved up to Shizuo and she motioned with her head as if to say  _ ‘let’s get away from this freak’. _

 

“Uh, thank you again, Mr Orihara,” he said, stepping in between the information broker and his friend. Izaya looked up and his lips dipped into a vague smile. “I’ll be in touch if I need some more assistance.”

 

“Not a problem at all,” his voice had gone soft, dreamy almost, and his eyes had glazed over as if he were dazed. “I will continue to gather all the information I can, Detective.”

 

Shizuo shook the hand that was still raised and it seemed to jolt the information broker back to his usual, smirking self. Izaya drew his fingers away and began to turn on his heel, clearly heading to the platform on the other side of the station. He paused and looked back at the two of them, his now-clear eyes wide and strange. 

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Vorona,” he chirped, waving. The man’s gaze dropped again, almost lecherously taking in her form. He started chattering, half-talking to himself it seemed. “You know you are perfect. If only you…” His inane chatter continued long after he’d disappeared into the crowd but by that time the two blondes couldn’t hear him over the loud clatter of the trains arriving overhead. “If only you would smile...but then again, I suppose the head doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not needed, no, my Valkyrie’s head is already perfect. The body’s perfect. It would certainly save me time to have the body in one place, apart from the heart obviously...the heart must be from him.”

 

“He is strange man,” Vorona stated, staring blankly into the crowd. 

 

Shizuo shook his head and ushered her up the stairs to the platform. “A real fucking creep.”

 


	7. Defessus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. Good news though, I've now plotted out the whole story and boy is it a doozy. Looking forward to writing it all out for you!

The gathering at Shizuo’s apartment had spiralled into a night on the town - on the insistence of the tech-duo, of course - so the guests ended up traipsing to a nearby nightclub to socialise. When more people started piling into the club and the booze started to loosen their restraints, simple chatting turned to dancing. Erika was the first to drag people into the strobe-lit area but now there was quite a crowd cavorting around one another. A few others were milling around the quieter seating area, including Shizuo, Vorona and Kadota, all of whom were sat smoking at a small table in the corner. 

 

“You okay?” Shizuo asked, handing Vorona the vodka tonic she’d requested. In his own inebriated state he may have accidentally asked for a double but he doubted that she would care - the Russian could sure put it away. 

 

“I have feeling I am going to get very drunk tonight,” the woman murmured, clinking her glass against the side of Shizuo’s beer can. She was already flushed, possibly from the alcohol but more likely, if her heated gaze was anything to go by, it was caused by the way Karisawa was dancing. She twisted the bracelet on her arm around, as she always did when she was nervous. It was a slender silver band, one that Shizuo and Kadota had bought for her upon the completion of her training to get into Firearms. Vorona didn’t have a lot of belongings, so it was a trinket she treasured greatly and never took off. 

 

“Don’t lose your head,” Kadota laughed, nudging her in the side. 

 

Vorona glowered at him and proceeded to down her drink before wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “I can handle double what you are able, Dotachin.” 

 

“You wanna bet?”

 

“Cool it,” Shizuo warned, knowing first-hand how competitive these two could get - especially when it came to drinking. “I don’t want to be holding your hair back - either of you. Gettin’ too old for that kinda shit.”

 

His two friends turned their heads in unison to look at him blankly. 

 

“Shut up,” they both said. 

 

Shizuo rolled his eyes and tapped his cigarette out into the ashtray. He’d heard that chorus of ‘shut up’ from them so many times over the past five years. With a deep sigh, he pushed himself out of his seat and grabbed his drink from the table as he moved out of the seating area into the swaying crowd. 

 

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he said. The departing words fell on deaf ears, for his friends were already deep in conversation about how Vorona could seduce the woman she couldn’t take her eyes off. Shizuo slid through the crowd as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the way people’s bodies curled and stretched against his back and torso. The alcohol made his head swim and the lack of sleep over the past month was causing his thoughts to run slower than usual. Despite the fog clouding his head, his senses were running in overdrive. He could taste and smell the sweat of the dancers in the air and feel the pulse of the music throbbing through his veins. Each time another person brushed against him, he felt as if the fabric of his clothes were made of sackcloth and it scratched painfully at his skin. For a moment he considered that he’d been spiked but dismissed the idea - it was far more likely that he was overworked and stressed out. 

 

When he reached the rooftop smoking area, he took in a much-needed breath of fresh air. He sat down in a quiet corner and ran a hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an angry breath. He hoped that the informant’s files would bring some sort of clue for him to follow or else he was certain this case was going to kill him before he caught the perpetrator. The stress was beginning to get to him - coming out tonight was a stupid idea, he should have been going through the chat-logs. For a moment, he let his thoughts wander back to the strange information broker. Though he still couldn’t place Orihara at Raira, there had been a glimmer of something earlier. That feeling of being watched. Perhaps he had been imagining it, perhaps he’d really never met him but there was something perturbing him, something too bothersome to ignore. He thought back to their meeting in the office, Orihara’s wide eyes and the excited pull of his lips into a smirk. The informant seemed as if he were brimming with energy and Shizuo couldn’t quite place why. He recalled the way his stomach twisted when the man licked the whiskey from his lips and wrinkled his nose in disgust.  _ That  _ certainly wasn’t an appropriate thing to be thinking about. Shizuo sighed and blamed his misplaced attraction on his addled brain - stress could drive one mad, or at least that’s what he told himself. 

 

As if by some sick stroke of coincidence, his phone buzzed against his thigh from its place in his pocket. Shizuo leaned back so that he could slide the device out and unlock it with his thumb. As he fiddled with the passcode, he jammed a cigarette into his mouth and lit the end so that he could take a harsh drag and dirty the clean air he’d so gratefully sucked in earlier. He was surprised to see a notification from a number he’d never seen before and clicked through to open the entire message. 

 

‘UNKNOWN NUMBER’

_ I apologise for my earlier behaviour, Mr Heiwajima. I would be ecstatic if you would allow me to take you out for a drink to make it up to you. And to discuss the information I provided for you, of course. I do hope you don’t mind me messaging the number on your business card. Izaya.  _

 

Shizuo almost let go of the phone in surprise but he let go of his cigarette instead and it fell to the floor in a burst of ash. He gave an incredulous laugh at the sheer audacity of the message and shook his dizzy head. What was the informant thinking? The offer was entirely inappropriate but his fingers were already flitting over the touch-keys and before he knew it he’d already replied. 

 

HEIWAJIMA, S

_ Where? When? S _

 

He could almost picture the way Izaya’s smile would widen upon receipt of that message and he clenched his fists in automatic response. What was  _ he _ thinking? He could only blame it on the booze until the morning, then he would have to confront his stupidity with an aching head. A clear voice broke through the haze in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like the smooth drawl like the informant, directing him forward, luring him in. 

 

‘UNKNOWN NUMBER’ 

_ Ben Fiddich bar in Shinjuku. 8PM. I’ll buy, it’s an expensive place.  _

 

The subtle insult was not lost on Shizuo. He typed out a number of messages before finally sending one - ‘ _ fuck off’, ‘you’re annoying, why would I want to have a drink with you?’, ‘I’d rather punch myself in the face’.  _

 

HEIWAJIMA, S

_ Fine.  _

 

The blond switched his phone off after that and stooped over to pick his fallen cigarette up off the floor. The filter was dirty but he didn’t care and sparked the end back into life before jamming it back into his mouth. He’d go for one drink to discuss the case, that was all. With an irritable sigh, he pushed himself up and headed to the end of the rooftop so that he could lean against the railings and observe the view. It was a beautiful scene, the lights of the city looked like multi-coloured stars puncturing the darkness of the evening. Smoke plumed out of his mouth and muddied the clear sky for a moment before dissipating. He loved the city, something about the buzz of the streets and flock of anonymous faces made him feel at home. 

 

“Shizuo.”

 

He turned his head to the side just as Vorona came to stand next to him and stood in the same position, forearms resting on the railing, slightly bent at the waist. She held her hand out and he instinctively passed her the cigarette box and lighter from his pocket. 

 

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking back out at the cityscape. 

 

Vorona took in a languid drag of smoke and slipped the cigarette paraphernalia back into the top pocket of Shizuo’s shirt. “Yes, am fine. Wanted to check you were okay.”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered. His gaze dropped to the streets below them, eyes scanning the people moving below. “Thanks for looking out for me, Vorona.”

 

The woman turned to look at him and gave a small smile. “You are best friend, Shizuo. It is no problem.”

 

“Stop tryin’ to be cute, it doesn’t suit you,” Shizuo chuckled, pulling Vorona in under his arm. She settled her head against his chest and the two of them watched the city pass in silence for the remainder of their cigarettes. In unison, they flicked the filters over the railing and parted. Shizuo jerked his head back toward the staircase, feeling more settled thanks to the easy comfort of his friend. “C’mon, we might as well celebrate having ‘the gang’ back together in true fashion.”

 

“Shots?”

 

“Shots.”

 

-0- 

 

The morning hit and boy did it hit hard. Shizuo woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of chatter coming from his kitchen. His blood throbbed aggressively against his temples and all he could taste was the dryness that came from chain smoking. He blearily stumbled out of bed and leaned heavily against the doorframe, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. When he managed to rub the sleep dust from his eyes he saw Vorona sat at his table drinking a coffee and Kadota stood at the stove holding a spatula. Breakfast bubbled in the saucepan on the hob and created a pleasant smell that Shizuo found didn’t turn his stomach like he thought it would. 

 

“Ugh, morning,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. 

 

Kadota turned to look at him and raised his eyebrows. “Put a shirt on, jackass. Walkin’ round lookin’ like Achilles’ jacked brother isn’t fair on the rest of us.”

 

Shizuo snorted and moved to sit down next to Vorona. The two of them were both wearing his pajamas and though he didn’t remember offering them, he didn’t mind. They were very close friends, they were so comfortable in each other’s places that they were almost like second homes. He held a hand out to Vorona and she placed a box of cigarettes into his hand. 

 

“Fuck off, Kyouhei,” he chuckled, placing the smoke in his mouth. “You two stole all my clothes.”

 

“You still keep that old bartender get-up,” Kadota noted, carefully turning over an egg. “How come?”

 

“Did you guys go through all my stuff?” Shizuo moaned. He shoved a cigarette into his mouth and sparked it up. “I kept it ‘cos Kasuka got it for me, plus it was the first job I ever had so I guess it’s kinda nostalgic.”

 

Vorona hummed lightly and plucked the lighter out of his hand. “And he likes the way it looks on him.”

 

“Ah, that seems more likely,” Kadota laughed. He began serving the food he had prepared onto three plates. “Then again, I’d be vain if I looked like you, man.”

 

Shizuo made a face and blew a stream of smoke toward the other man. “Fuck off.”

 

“Whatever you say, princess.”

 

The three friends ate breakfast together in pleasant silence, each thankful for the food lining their queasy stomachs. Shizuo felt more at peace than he had in weeks, simply happy to be around two people that he cared about. It almost felt like they were five years in the past, living together as they trained to pass their initial exams. For a brief while he let himself forget about the grisly bodies sat in the morgue and the information broker whose smile unsettled him so. The sliver of peace was shattered as soon as his thoughts drifted to Izaya. 

 

“You okay?” Vorona asked, glancing down at his hands. 

 

Shizuo blinked and followed her gaze down to see that he had unconsciously crushed his fork between his fingers. He dropped the bent piece of metal onto the table and huffed an irritable sigh. “Yeah, fine.”

 

His friends exchanged a concerned look but didn’t press him any further and continued eating. Shizuo reached for a glass of orange juice and stabbed his cigarette butt into the ashtray as he began to drink. 

 

Kadota gave him a wink and grinned widely. “So, what time are you going for dinner with Orihara?”

 

The blond spluttered and the juice exploded over his face. He slammed the cup down and wiped a hand across his chin, disgusted at the way the liquid made his skin tacky. “What?”

 

Vorona raised a brow and folded her arms across her chest. “You told us last night. You are having dinner with that strange man from the train station.” 

 

“I-” he began, feeling at loss for words. “When did I tell you that?”

 

“Somewhere between the third tequila and you throwing up in a bin on the street,” Kadota replied, placing his cutlery onto his plate. He glanced up at Shizuo and his mouth pulled down into a slight frown. “I’m not sure you should be pursuing anything with that man. Not only because he was involved in the case but because he’s not exactly a nice guy.”

 

Shizuo growled under his breath. “I’m not  _ pursuing _ that-”

 

“I thought you said he was annoying anyway?”

 

“I’m  _ not  _ doing anything!” he barked, scowling at the way his friends were smirking at him. “I’m going to discuss the information he gave me.”

 

Vorona hid a giggle behind her hand. “Shizuo gets so defensive.”

 

“Alright, alright, enough,” the blond grunted, holding up his hands. He checked his watch and groaned. “How did we manage to get up so early?” 

 

“Practice,” Vorona answered, blankly. 

 

“Years of practice,” Kadota agreed. 

 

Shizuo laughed half-heartedly and turned his head to look at the stack of files the information broker had given him. “Ugh, I’ve gotta start going through that soon, sorry guys.”

 

“We said we may go look around the market today. Vorona still hasn’t tried Okonomiyaki, so I wanted to take her to that stall we like,” Kadota said, leaning back in his head. “We can always bring some back for you if you want.”

 

“That’d be great,” Shizuo replied, with a grin. “I’ll need a break at some point.”

 

They parted not long after breakfast, freshly showered and once again wearing their own clothes, leaving Shizuo on his own at last. He quickly showered and dressed in the cleanest clothes he could find before settling down at his desk to read through the thick stack of papers. There was a lot of technical jargon that he didn’t understand for the first few pages, presumably code. He made a mental note to take them into Yumisaki and Karisawa, they’d undoubtedly find it easy to read. The chat logs began simply, an everyday conversation between ‘Chrome’ and another user called ‘Kanra’. It read as oddly inane for a log in which one of the participants could be a deranged killer - in fact, it appeared to be more like a chat between schoolgirls. 

 

There were pages and pages of talk about daily life, about music and books that had recently come out and good places to eat in the city. Hours passed as he slowly read through all the details. Kadota and Vorona dropped some food by for him but quickly left after seeing how involved the detective was in the papers. The conversations between the two users spanned different days, weeks, but there was nothing of real use. For a while, Shizuo considered that the informant had played him for a fool until he neared the end of the stack and something odd stuck out one of the final pages. 

 

KANRA:

_ How is your lover? It’s been awhile since you’ve spoken about him. _

 

CHROME:

_ Takashi. I love Takashi. But he’s been taken away from me.  _

 

KANRA: 

_ What do you mean? _

 

CHROME:

_ I don’t know where he is. People want to keep us apart! But I’m going to find him, I’m going to find him because we’re in love and love can guide me!  _

 

KANRA: 

_ Yeah! Love conquers all! _

 

CHROME: 

_ And I’ll fucking kill anyone who gets in the way of our being together. I hate them, even if she loves them. I’ll cut EVERY ONE of them down if I have to.  _

 

KANRA:

_ … _

 

CHROME: 

_ Takashi is MINE. I love love love him and she loves him too, she loves him so much! _

 

KANRA: 

_ She? You’re scaring me a bit. _

 

CHROME: 

_ Saika. My pretty blade. She talks to me, we talk about love.  _

 

Shizuo placed the papers down and ran a hand through his hair. The preamble seemed necessary now, if just to highlight how stark the change in the tone was. If the killer was attempting to get revenge on those who had separated them from their lover, then that might explain the complete evisceration of the bodies - intense emotion could cause the wildest outbursts and  _ love  _ was often the worst. What was confusing him was the reason for their separation in the first place. A married couple having an affair, perhaps? Kept apart by warring families? Shizuo pursed his lips and stared down at the papers. The immaturity in the conversation suggested something entirely different. A teenager in love with an adult. Perhaps an idol, or a family friend or a teacher? 

 

Shizuo sighed and checked his watch - seven o’clock. His hangover had waned by now - thankfully, seeing as he was going to meet Orihara at a cocktail bar. The blond pushed the papers away and stood so that he could move into the bedroom. There a sinking sensation pulled at his stomach but he couldn’t quite work out why he was feeling so anxious. He opened the closet door and rifled through his sparse selection of clothes. Ben Fiddich was a classy place from what he could remember so he settled on the black dress trousers and white shirt from his bartender ensemble. Considering he hadn’t worn them in years, they still fit well. Shizuo stared at himself in the mirror as he fastened his cufflinks and smirked at his reflection. Vorona was right, he  _ did  _ like the way these clothes looked on him. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Amici

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy. :) The plot is getting quite involved now and ohhh I'm very pleased with the outline. This will be quite a long one, which sort of runs in two parts. The second half will sort of run into something similar to canon which should be interesting to write :D

“You’re making a habit of being late on me, Detective,” Orihara purred, pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning against. His dark eyes were shining as Shizuo imagined they would, even in the darkened street outside the bar. He was dressed in his usual all-black attire with that strange fur-lined coat that Shizuo had noted the other day. “I do hope it doesn’t happen next time.”

 

Next time. Shizuo almost winced at the implication but held himself steady and flicked his cigarette butt into the gutter. What was he doing here, he thought, why didn’t he tell the other man to fuck off when he had the chance? Izaya smirked at him and he felt his stomach twist uneasily again. 

 

“Sorry, trains were delayed,” he replied, gruffly. “And I got distracted by something.”

 

“I see. And what would that be?” Izaya asked, tilting his head to one side. “I do hope our meeting wasn’t cutting into your valuable ti-”

 

“This,” Shizuo stated. He shoved a torn piece of paper in front of the broker’s face and turned his gaze down to the floor as Izaya took it in between his thumb and forefinger. 

 

Orihara raised his eyebrows and chuckled lightly as he turned the paper over in his hand. “Class photo, huh? Were you trying to remember me, Mr Heiwa-”

 

“Shizuo,” he grunted, looking back up at the other man. For once Izaya wasn’t smirking, in fact the edges of his mouth had softened into something resembling a genuine smile. “Shizuo is fine, I’m off-duty.”

 

“Shizuo,” Izaya repeated, the sound roll off his tongue as little more than a whisper. He looked back down at the picture and his grin widened. “Then call me Izaya. It’s only fair. Did you manage to find me in this picture?”

 

The blond nodded and pointed to a face around the top tier of students. At the back, around the end of the row, was a pale, dark-haired boy with a sharp face and a wide, wide smile. “There.”

 

“Correct,” the information broker laughed. He turned the image back to Shizuo and tapped another face, this one at the front of the crowd. Stood there was a boy with vibrant yellow-orange hair - clearly Shizuo at the beginning stage of bleaching, just before he’d worked out what toner was. “And here you are.”

 

“I can’t believe how many people I didn’t know in our year,” Shizuo commented, shaking his head at the picture. “I guess I was a bit unsociable.”

 

The broker hummed and gestured to his left, ushering Shizuo into the bar. “Unless you consider beating the shit out of everyone as social, then I would agree.”

 

Shizuo bit the inside of his cheek, embarrassed by the unruly behaviour of his youth - and to be fair, his behaviour hadn’t changed that much over the years, he was still quick to anger, quick to land a punch. The bar was small and very dim as it was only lit by a few brass lamps and a number of  candles jammed in bottles dotted around. The darkness lent to the atmosphere, as did the heavy aroma of herbs and flowers that overpowered even the scent of alcohol.  Behind the bar were shelves brimming with infusion-filled glass jars. There were many oblong, oddly-sized carafes, each of them filled with strange-looking liqueurs. Bows of dried  _ Artemisia absinthium _ hung from wooden rafters next to the mounted head of a stag, their leaves spirally arranged, green-grey in colour, covered with silky silvery trichomes . A number of absinthe spoons leaned at ease next to a still life of bright yuzu.  The array of jarred herbs created a heady incense that Shizuo found went straight to his head and he let hazily followed Izaya through the main bar to a private area through another door. The information broker turned and gestured to a table in the centre of the room that was flanked by two squishy leather armchairs. 

 

“There’s no menu here,” he informed the blond, as they took seats opposite one another. “They have four base spirits, pick one, tell them what flavours you like or how you’re feeling and they’ll create something perfect.”

 

“Perfect, huh?” Shizuo answered, raising a brow. The candle between them flickered as they sat and the shadows danced across Izaya’s features, darkening his eyes. The vibrant orange made his gaze all the more predatory and Shizuo had to mentally reassure himself that  _ he  _ wasn’t, couldn’t possibly be, prey to anyone. He was the brute of Ikebukuro, a monster, a beast - that’s what they all called him. That’s what they’d always called him. 

 

“What's your mood?” Izaya asked. His gaze dipped to the cigarette in Shizuo’s hand. “I’d like a cigarette.” 

 

It wasn’t a question and though the implication irritated him a bit, Shizuo nodded and fished the packet out of his pocket before throwing it onto the table. “Sure. And uh, not sure.”

 

The waiter arrived before he could deliberate further. Izaya gave the man a charming smile, so different to the one Shizuo had grown slowly used to, and laced his hands together on the table. 

 

“Whisky, gin, absinthe or amaro?” the waiter asked, giving the information broker a small smile.

 

“Amaro. I’d like something bitter,” he began. His eyes flicked up and met Shizuo’s. “And I'm feeling confident. Something along those lines would be great.” 

 

The waiter bowed and motioned to the blond, who shuffled in his seat and tried to gather his thoughts. He spoke before he thought. 

 

“Um. Absinthe, I guess. I, uh, I like honey. And uh-,” he said, pulling his lighter from his pocket. He coughed and moved awkwardly in his seat. Izaya’s eyes challenged him and hell, he was never one to back down from a challenge. He remained still and without thinking he muttered. “And I feel like I’m going to make a mistake.”

 

Izaya’s smile curved down, back into that familiar smirk and for reasons unknown, Shizuo found himself returning it. The waiter left and another waft of strong incense pervaded the detective's nose. 

 

“So,” Izaya began, taking up the cigarette box. “What did you learn from the information I gave you?” 

 

Shizuo blinked, trying to bring his head back into sense. His temples were throbbing again, the best of a usual headache pulsing against his skull. “I- I think it's a female.”

 

“And why do you think that?”

 

“The way they talk,” Shizuo explained, lighting the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip. “About daily life, things they like. I'm not trying to be stereotypical but you can tell. The final few pages were the most interesting, I think ‘Chrome’ displays a lot of scorned lover traits. They seem intense about this Takashi character.”

 

Izaya rolled the cigarette back and forth through his fingers. “I may have had some luck on that front.” 

 

“Really? That's great,” Shizuo exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat. 

 

The broker smiled at him and placed the cigarette in between his lips. He gestured for the lighter which the blond made to hand to him but instead of taking it Izaya simply dipped his head and waited. Shizuo flicked the light and held still as the other man guided the end of the cigarette into the steady flame. He sucked in a breath and the smoke burned into life, the crackling end turning cherry-red. Izaya glanced up at Shizuo through his lashes as he leaned back and took the cigarette stem between his fingers. The detective swallowed and hoped their drinks would arrive soon as his mouth had run dry. 

 

“I searched for ‘Takashi’s’ with relevant meaning - men who’d had affairs, jilted lovers and the like. In the end I found this man Takashi Nasujima **.** He was a teacher at a local high school,” Izaya explained. Smoke was dripping lazily from his mouth, he didn't even bother to exhale properly. “Our school.” 

 

“Raira?” 

 

“Uh huh,” he nodded. He tapped ash into the tray on the table and took another drag before continuing. Shizuo remembered his own cigarette and saw that a lot of tobacco had burned and fallen onto the table due to his distraction. “The rumours - and I must add that these are just rumours - that he was having a ‘relationship’ with one of his students. The student was forced to change schools and Takashi quit.” 

 

Shizuo’s lip curled in disgust. “Do we have the student’s name?”

 

“I'm afraid that was the one thing I couldn't find. All the records were unattainable. I’ll keep trying,” Izaya replied, breezily. He fished around in the pocket of his coat for a slip of paper and slid it across the table. “It seems Takashi has been moving around quite frequently since he quit. But this is his current residence.” 

 

The paper had the details of a guesthouse scrawled across the centre, as well as a phone number. Shizuo’s brows knitted together then he nodded. “Yeah, I know this place. I wonder why he’s moving so much.”

 

The broker shrugged and began rolling the cigarette filter between his thumb and forefinger. “Beats me.”

 

“Thank you,” Shizuo said, tucking the paper into his pocket. “You've been an enormous help, I really am grateful.” 

 

Izaya tilted his head, remaining silent. The waiter arrived back at the table and presented the two men with their drinks. Shizuo’s, a frothy yellow-green colour, was in an ornate stemmed glass while Izaya’s, a dark amber affair, was contained in a Collins. The waiter bowed curtly and headed back into the main bar, uttering a simple ‘ _ enjoy’  _ before disappearing. Shizuo picked up the glass and peered down at the liquid. It smelt like perfume, with a hint of grapefruit and some unknown herb. 

 

“You’re quite welcome,” Izaya murmured. He wrapped his slender fingers around the glass and lifted it up. A gentle chuckle bubbled over his lips and he held Shizuo’s gaze as he tapped their glasses together. “Cheers.”

 

Shizuo opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find anything to say so he raised his glass and took a gulp of the drink. He raised his eyebrows in surprise - it tasted  _ wonderful.  _ It was creamy but clear, tinged with grapefruit and wormwood. The sharp taste of absinthe pleasantly burned the back of his throat but it was soon quelled by the delightful softness of honey. He’d never tasted anything quite like it. From the look on Izaya’s face, he too was enamoured with the first sip of his drink, for his eyes were closed and his smile serene. 

 

“Fuck, that’s good,” the blond sighed. He placed the glass back on the table, wanting to prolong the drink for as long as he could. “Really, really good.”

 

Izaya opened his eyes and his tongue darted out of his mouth so that he could lick a drop of cocktail from his bottom lip. “Best bar in the whole of Japan.”

 

“In your opinion,” Shizuo added. He took another drag of his cigarette and was surprised to find that the cocktail only enhanced the taste of the smoke. 

 

“I suppose,” the broker laughed, his smile dipping into a sneer. He stabbed his cigarette out in the ashtray with a pointed twist. “But my opinion is usually right.”

 

Shizuo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Izaya chuckled and leaned forward so that his elbows were resting on the table. He was silent for a moment, then his gaze lowered and focused on the candle. “I wanted to apologise for my behaviour at our last meeting. I had another client threatening me, my mind was focused on that. I tend to get tunnel vision when working.”

 

The blond couldn’t tell if the other man was being genuine or not. The lack of eye contact would suggest not but it seemed unlike the information broker to apologise for anything in the first place. “Don’t apologise. I’m not exactly the nicest guy to work with.”

 

“You could be seen as intimidating, I suppose.”

 

Shizuo smiled wryly, amused by the laissez-faire answer. “But not to you, right?”

 

“Not exactly,” he answered, with a shrug. “When we were at Raira I was too timid to approach you as you were always fighting.”

 

“That’s a lie,” Shizuo stated, flatly. 

 

Izaya peered up at him and his ever-present smile dropped just an inch. “What makes you say that?”

 

“You seem like the type who's never been timid in his life,” he continued, ruffling a hand through the back of his hair. “I mean, you wouldn’t have picked the job you did if you weren’t pretty confident in yourself.” 

 

Izaya rested his cheek on his knuckles and observed Shizuo quietly for a moment, some unreadable thought clearly passing through his mind. He raised his other hand and began absent-mindedly flicking his fingers through the candle flame. “Are you still as strong as you were in school?”

 

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Shizuo answered. His strength had always been something that made him feel awkward, so he began shifting in his seat and his fingers itched to light another cigarette despite a half-burned smoke still hanging from his lips. “Stronger.”

 

Izaya’s smile widened and his dropped his fingers from the flame back to the table. “Interesting. I bet you could lift a car by now.”

 

“Heh, almost,” he replied. He took up his glass and stared down into the liquid, swirling it gently. “I try not to lose my shit anymore. But I think the last time I did anything stupid was when I ripped a lamp-post out of the pavement.” 

 

“How absurd,” Izaya grinned, eyes widening in excitement. “You’re a-”

 

“A monster?” Shizuo finished, with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

 

He quelled his slight upset by taking another sip of his drink and relishing the delight that spread across his tongue. The excitement in Izaya’s eyes softened, as did the sharpness of his smirk. He shook his head and took up his own drink, holding it near the candle so that amber light refracted around the room. 

 

“Why is it so bad to be called a monster?” he asked, voice lower than Shizuo has ever heard it. 

 

For a moment the detective considered the question, the insult itself, the way anger was already starting to rise in his chest. Shizuo could still remember the first time he heard  _ monster  _ thrown his way - he had only been seven years old. Some local kids were bullying Kasuka, so he’d ripped a chain-link swing straight out of the frame and hurled it at the group. One of the bullies ended up with a broken leg, the other a busted nose and Shizuo himself ended up with a reputation as a  _ bad kid.  _ From that day forth he was  _ trouble,  _ he was  _ not to be played with,  _ or  _ made friends with  _ and those insults came from the adults not the kids. Distance grew between Shizuo and the rest of the world with Kasuka as his only lifeline to humanity. From loneliness, anger sprouted and by the time he got to high-school he’d bleached his hair and started smoking - if he was going to be treated like a delinquent he might as well look like one, right? 

 

Raira changed his outlook. He met Shinra and Kadota, they became friends though he couldn’t quite work out why. Their friendship made him feel good, he liked being _ liked.  _ An idea fostered over his high-school years and finally came to bloom when he signed up to join the police force -  _ maybe I don’t have to be a monster. Maybe I can be a good guy.  _ In the present, with his career and the small group of oddball friends he’d managed to keep, he found life bearable. He was still lonely, still shunned, but it was better. 

 

“It gets lonely,” he muttered, finally. “Real lonely.”

 

The information broker frowned and took a long sip of his drink. When he set it down his gaze moved up and fixed on Shizuo. There was a bemused look on his face, as if he were considering whether or not to speak at all. Eventually he let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. For just a moment his usually rigid posture went slack and the energy seeped out of his expression leaving him almost unrecognisable. The excitement in his eyes was gone and all that remained was flat, blank darkness. 

 

“I understand,” he murmured, quietly. “What it is like to feel lonely.”

 

There was undeniable, miserable truth to that statement that Shizuo couldn’t deny. He swallowed and he curled his fingers around his thighs when he realised that he was nervous. The broker gave him a weary smile and the detective found that he couldn’t look away from his mouth. 

 

“I-”

 

Izaya was cut off when Shizuo’s work phone blared loudly from his pocket. The blond jumped in his seat and rifled through his jacket to retrieve the noisy device. He pressed the button and held the speaker up to his ear, rather flustered by the sudden intrusion of the noise and the reminder of the world outside the haven of the bar. 

 

“Heiwajima,” he said, running a hand through his hair. 

 

_ “It’s Togusa. Got another one. We’ve cordoned off the scene, need you here.” _

 

The blond felt his heart sink and he grit his teeth together angrily. “What?”

 

“ _ A drunk found the body in the alley next to Theatre Green in central ‘Bukuro. It’s a real mess, can’t even tell what the gender of the poor thing is until we get the- the pieces down to Shinra and the boys.” _

 

“Fuck, ah fucking hell!” Shizuo growled, grabbing his satchel off the floor. He stood up swiftly and threw the strap over his head so that he could pull it across his chest. “Right, on my way. I’m in Shinjuku so I’ll try and be there as quickly as possible. Keep the fucking press away and get forensics down as soon as possible.”

 

_ “They should already be on their way. See you soon, man. Sorry for ruining your time off.” _

 

Shizuo shoved his phone into his pocket and dragged his coat off the back of his chair. The information broker was looking up at him, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. “I’m sorry I-”

 

Izaya waved a hand and a sly smile slid across his face. “It’s no problem. Go do your job, detective.”

 

“Thanks for the drink, we should-” he paused and managed to muster a smile despite the pressing situation. “We should do this again sometime.”

 

“You have my number.”

 

Shizuo hurried out of the room and Izaya listened intently until he heard the front door slam loudly from the main bar. He sank down into his chair and closed his eyes, trying to picture Shizuo at the crime scene, the scene he’d set for him earlier that night using the imperfect body from the sack in his basement. It was a real mess, he had no doubt that Shizuo wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. 

 

“So soon, Shizu-chan,” he purred to the empty room. “Then you can rest.”

 

 


	9. Scelestus femina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this! The chapter after this will be quite violent - please be wary!

The detective didn’t get any sleep that night. After the scene had been cleared of the body parts, Shizuo had left the forensics to do their job and scour the scene for evidence while he returned to the station and collapsed at his desk. He waited there until morning, when he received a call from the Pathology Unit at the hospital to say that they’d finished their initial examinations. After grabbing a coffee from the machine, he’d clambered into one of the armed response cars and driven across the city, hands shaking from the rush of caffeine and lack of sleep. His mood was low before he even arrived, thoroughly angered that another victim was dead  _ and  _ he would have to deal with Shinra this early in the morning. The pathologist was an old friend but he didn’t half get on Shizuo’s nerves at times. He preferred professionalism when working on homicide cases but all Shinra seemed to want to do was prattle on about Celty. The poor Dullahan, he thought, he honestly didn’t know how she put up with him. 

 

“Morning beautiful!” Shinra called, as the detective walked through the door into the lab. Shizuo gave him a surly nod and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh boy, you sure are grumpy today.”

 

“Someone else has died, I’m a bit more than  _ grumpy,  _ asshole.”

 

The doctor raised his gloved hands in mock surrender. “Excuse me. Right, shall we go through this? I want get back to Celty as soon as I can.”

 

“You’ll go back when I decide,” he growled, eye twitching in irritation. 

 

Shinra rolled his eyes and ushered him over to the metal table in the centre of the room. Laid out on the counter were the remains of a human body, so tattered and torn apart that it was barely recognisable from any other piece of meat one might buy at the butchers. Shizuo drew in a breath and raised a hand to cover his mouth, sickened by the crudely hacked limbs. 

 

“Is there anything missing this time?” he asked, frowning at the remains as he tried to make sense of where each piece fit. “The last ones had limbs missing.”

 

The doctor frowned and shook his head. “No, not this time. Everything is here, as surprising as that may seem. There is one thing that’s a little strange.”

 

Shizuo rounded the table to stand with Shinra he pointed down at a part. “The hand? You get prints?”

 

“Yeah, prints are being run through the database but that’s not what’s strange,” Shinra replied. He carefully picked up the hand and turned it over so that Shizuo could see the palm. “See here, there’s something written in biro.”

 

_ Saika.  _ The detective repeated the word out loud and furrowed his brow as he ran it through his mind. He’d heard that before, where - oh course.  _ Saika, my pretty blade.  _ That was what Chrome had said in the chat room. Shizuo let out an exasperated sigh and turned away from Shinra, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Fuck, right,” he grunted. There was another victim, he shouldn’t have spent the last two days pissing around in bars, he should have been more focused. “Do we have time of death?” 

 

Shinra hummed thoughtfully as he placed the hand back on the table. “I’d say a couple of days ago. I can be more specific when I run more thorough tests.”

 

“A couple of days?” Shizuo repeated, shaking his head. “So what, someone just dumped the parts?”

 

“That’s my guess. It would have taken quite some time to decimate the body in this manner, a lot of the parts show signs of dismemberment  _ after  _ death. The killing strike seems to have come from this wound here,” Shinra explained, pointing to another body part. “See here, this is one of the thighs. There’s a very deep stab wound which would have caused the victim to bleed out quickly. There’s also a blow on the back of the skull.” 

 

Shizuo frowned. “So the killer incapacitated the victim, bled them out, then did the damage?” 

 

The doctor nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. With a sigh, he moved around the table and stood next to Shizuo so that he could place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ll catch them, okay?”

 

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Shizuo groaned. 

 

“You’re a brilliant detective, I know you’ll do it.”

 

He turned his head and gave Shinra a weary smile. “Thanks.”

 

“Did you speak to Izaya, by the way?” the doctor asked, striding past the blond toward his desk in the corner of the lab. He peeled his rubber gloves off his hands and dumped them in a bin before collapsing into his office chair. 

 

“I did. Thanks for suggesting it, he’s been really helpful,” Shizuo replied. He checked his watch and ran a hand across his face. “Right, I need to get going, there’s something that I need to follow up.” 

 

“Sure.”

 

Before he headed out into the corridor he paused and turned back to look at the doctor. “One question. Physically, how big would this killer have to be?”

 

Shinra rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The victims were all been knocked out before death so someone fairly strong. Probably someone with a car.”

 

“Or a driver,” Shizuo added, running a hand through his hair. That could be it, two killers - it would certainly fit the scorned lovers motive. He had to visit this Takashi guy, he had to find out who the student was. “Thanks Shinra, I’ll see you later. Keep me filled in.”

 

“Laters, Shizuo!”

 

-0- 

 

The guesthouse Takashi Nasujima was residing in was a small, run-down place close to the train station. The detective had never noticed it before, though he must have walked past it hundreds of times in the past. The receptionist, a heavily wrinkled older woman, directed him to a room at the end of the ground-floor corridor, the room where Nasujima had been staying for the past month. Shizuo knocked sharply on the door and listened quietly to the sound of movement from behind the wood. 

 

“Who is it?” came a muffled voice. 

 

“Police,” Shizuo stated, bluntly. “Please open the door, Sir.”

 

The locks clicked in place and the door swung open to reveal a thin, tired looking man on the other side of the threshold. His eyes were wide with fear but he wasn’t looking at Shizuo, his gaze was darting back and forth down the corridor, as if he were looking for someone else. The detective coughed pointedly and Takashi leaned back, a weary smile settling on his face. 

 

“Takashi Nasujima,” he greeted, holding out a hand. Shizuo shook it, nodding his head in response. “How can I help you?”

 

“Detective Heiwajima,” he responded. He held up his badge for a few seconds before tucking it back into his pocket. I’ve got a few questions for you, do you mind if I come in?”

 

“Uh, sure,” Nasujima answered, nervously. He stepped to one side to allow Shizuo entry and quickly shut the door behind him. The detective moved into the small room, observing what he could without seeming suspicious. There was nothing out of the ordinary, a few piles of papers, books, a television and some clothes. The only thing that struck him as odd was the amount of locks on the door which he noticed as he turned back to face the other man. 

 

“Trying to keep someone out?” Shizuo asked, using a tone that could be deemed ‘jokey’. 

 

Nasujima laughed but the sound was tinged with anxiety. “This isn’t the best area of town. I’m just trying to be safe. Please, take a seat. Can I get you any tea or coffee?” The detective shook his head and sat down in the armchair in the centre of the room. Nasujima took a seat on the sofa opposite. He looked frantic, wringing his hands slowly in his lap, one knee shaking slightly. “So how can I help you?”

 

“I’m investigating a series of homicides in Ikebukuro,” Shizuo explained, leaning forward so that he could rest his elbows on his knees. “I’m sure you’ve heard about them on the news.”

 

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, swallowing thickly. “Nasty stuff.”

 

“Indeed. I’ll spare you the details but we’ve come across an online log which we believe has been written by the killer. They mention a man called Takashi - a lot,” the detective continued. Nasujima’s face turned pale and he pulled his bottom lips in between his teeth. “We believe this log to have been written by a female. Now, we’ve been informed that there was a reason for you to leave your last job-”

 

“That was just a rumour!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Shizuo raised a brow - most would be angry at the accusation, but Takashi looked terrified. “I would never-”

 

“Can you tell me  _ who  _ this rumour was about?” Shizuo asked, calmly. “Which student?”

 

The man huffed and ran shaking hands through his already-mussed hair. “I- look, I didn’t  _ do  _ anything. She was obsessed with me! I’ve had to leave my job, even my fucking house! She’s crazy!”

 

“Who?”

 

“She’s been stalking me!” Nasujima cried, fisting his hair between his fingers. “I was going to go to the police b-but I thought they wouldn’t listen because of - because of everything that happened. She won’t leave me alone, I’m terrified of her, she’s not right, she’s got that weird  _ thing _ inside her, I’m terrified-”

 

The man dissolved into tears, the violent sobbing made his words unintelligible. Shizuo waited patiently until his cries ceased, uncertain of whether to comfort the man or hit him for allegedly messing around with a minor. When Takashi surfaced from his misery, he gave Shizuo a weak smile and he wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his sleeve. 

 

“Haruna,” he croaked. He spoke her name quietly as if it were cursed and speaking it too loud may call the girl to their location. “Haruna Niekawa.”

 

The detective scribbled her name down in his notebook and slipped it back into his pocket. Quickly, he typed out the girl’s name on his mobile and sent a message to Orihara - perhaps he would be able to find something that could help him, he was quicker than the team back at the office. He stood up swiftly and gave the made a grateful nod. “Thank you, Mr Nasujima. I would recommend caution for the moment, keep your door locked, don’t go out after dark. We may need to speak with you again.”

 

He left quietly, leaving the broken man staring silently into the atmosphere. His face was creased up into an expression of dread and his skin had paled to an unpleasant grey. Shizuo shook his head as he shut the door behind him - what kind of schoolgirl could reduce a man to that state? What kind of schoolgirl could commit such hideous murders?

 

The detective mulled over the subject as he headed to the train station to get a coffee.  _ Haruna Niekawa.  _ How could a schoolgirl brutalise a body like that - not just morally, but physically too. He collapsed into one of the seats near the window and ripped open a packet of sugar to stir into his coffee. Perhaps she had a car, she had to be able to move the bodies somehow. Unless she was working with someone else. 

 

_ BEEP.  _

 

He placed his coffee down onto the table and fished his phone out from his pocket. Izaya’s message was short, to the point and exactly what he wanted to hear. 

 

ORIHARA, I

_ Information on Niekawa. Also received intel on ‘Saika’. Will be of great interest if you can suspend your disbelief. 8PM, mine. _

 

As a monster himself, there wasn’t much he found unbelievable. 

 

-0- 

 

By the time he arrived at Izaya’s apart it was dark outside and the streets were beginning to clear. Since the attacks started a lot of the public tended to remain indoors after dusk for fear that they might run into the killer. Even when the gangs were fighting the sense of danger wasn’t that great, the public still milled around unaffected, which only served to show that the threat posed by Chrome was beginning to seep out into the populace. He ran into the information broker in the lobby, just as the man was swiping his keycard through the elevator lock. 

 

“Ah, Shizuo,” Izaya greeted. He didn’t turn to face the blond, it was almost as if he could sense him without looking. “Right on time.” 

 

“Ori- Izaya,” he replied, giving the man a nod. The elevator doors opened and the two men stepped inside. “Thanks for seeing me, I know you must be busy.”

 

It was then that the information broker turned his head and Shizuo got a good luck as his face. There was a dark circle blossoming underneath his left eye and both his lip and cheek were split open and bloody. His skin was dirty on one side as if he’d been scraped across the ground. Before he could stop himself, Shizuo reached out and gripped Izaya’s chin between his fingers so that he could turn his head back and forth to examine the injuries. 

 

“Hey-”

 

“What the hell happened to you?” Shizuo asked, pursing his lips. 

 

The broker batted his hand away and touched a finger to his lip. He grimaced when he pulled it back to see blood staining the tip. “I got into a little fight with an unhappy client.”

 

“Idiot,” the blond grunted. He placed his hands back into his pockets to stop himself from touching Izaya’s face again. “You look like shit.”

 

“You should _see_ the other person.”

 

Shizuo smiled wryly at the snarky response as the elevator doors slid open on Izaya’s floor. The lights were on this time and for the first time the detective could see that there were only two doors in the entire corridor. “Do you own this whole floor?” 

 

“Yeah,” Izaya answered. He began walking ahead of Shizuo, who followed close behind. “But the other door is just the entrance to the staircase, it’s not another apartment.”

 

“Rich git.”

 

“Charming.”

 

They entered the apartment and Izaya quickly hurried off to find his first aid kit. Shizuo took the seat by the desk rather than the sofa, he needed to keep his head clear and away from alcohol until this was all over. There was a plain folder on the desk with the name ‘HARUNA NIEKAWA’ scrawled across the front. Tentatively the detective took it up and began leafing through the pages. A picture was clipped to the top of the folder which showed a teenage girl, presumably Haruna. She was a beautiful sight, with thick hair that grew to her waist and flawless skin. There was something slightly  _ off  _ about her despite this beauty, her eyes seemed a little unfocused, her smile thin. There weren’t many pages in the folder, a few detailed Haruna’s schooling record, another about her transfer and the final few were on the death of Shuji Niekawa. Shizuo read these last pages in greater detail and found that Haruna’s father had been murdered not too long after she moved schools. He was stabbed in the street by an unknown assailant and left to die. There was one note at the bottom which held his attention. When Shuji was found he was missing his heart. 

 

 


	10. Sanguis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the amazing response guys! Glad you're all enjoying the crime drama vibe. This is a fairly big, eventful chapter but OH BOY am I looking forward to what you make of the next one. There's still quite a way to go to the end.

  
  


KANRA: 

 

_ Hey I’ve got some good news for you! _

 

CHROME: 

 

_ Yeah? Please tell me, I’ve been so miserable. So lonely.  _

 

KANRA: 

 

_ I overheard someone on the phone talking about visiting Takashi Nasujima!  _

 

CHROME: 

 

_ What. WHAT. WHO?! WHERE IS MY TAKASHI?!  _

 

KANRA:

 

_ He was a detective. I think his name was Shizuo Heiwajima. He just got on the train to Shinjuku!  _

 

CHROME: 

 

_ Shinjuku. That’s not far. Shinjuku. I need to go.  _

 

CHROME HAS LEFT THE CHAT. 

 

-0- 

 

“Interesting girl, isn’t she?”

 

Shizuo raised his head and saw Izaya striding toward him with a small first-aid box in hand and his phone in the other. He nodded and turned his gaze back down to the papers. “Interesting is one term for her.”

 

The informant chuckled as he collapsed into his office chair, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He opened up the first kit and ripped open an antiseptic wipe which he placed over the gash on his cheekbone. It must have hurt as he winced but he kept any noises of dissatisfaction inside. Shizuo placed the file back onto the desk, let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

“It says here she was hospitalised,” Shizuo said, turning the pages to a report near the end. “You know what for? A lot of the details have been redacted.” 

 

Izaya hissed as he dragged the wipe over his swollen lip and dropped it onto the desk. The clean, white material was now saturated with crimson. “Groomed by a teacher, ripped away from someone she thinks she loves, bordering on a psychotic break - I think we can make an educated guess.”

 

“Suicide attempt?” Shizuo asked, raising a brow. 

 

The informant nodded and began to pack the kit back up. His bottom lip was still bleeding and for some reason Shizuo couldn’t drag his gaze away from it. A bead of bright scarlet bubbled from the wound and slipped over the curve of his lip, down his chin and dripped onto the desk. Izaya was talking but it was as if he couldn’t hear him, he was far too focused on that small stream winding down the man’s pale skin. Before he could stop himself he leaned across the desk and swiped his thumb across the informant’s chin. The action was meant to wipe the fluid away but he only managed to smear it further into his skin. Shizuo took in a breath and jerked his hand back, mumbling an incoherent apology. Izaya blinked, dark eyes locked on the detective, and raised his hand to his lips. The blood was smudged in such a way that it made him look like he’d just finished feasting on raw meat, the very image of a vampiric creature. 

 

“Uh - sorry,” Shizuo muttered, lacing his hands together awkwardly in his lap. “Your lip is bleeding.”

 

Izaya blinked again and his eyes focused back into the present. “Oh - thanks.”

 

The detective stood up and hurriedly gathered the files into the folder. He felt his cheeks flush with heat so he fixed his eyes on the floor and moved around the desk so he could pass to the door. Shizuo didn’t look back at the informant, too embarrassed by his actions to find anything sensible to say. “Uh, anyway. Thanks for the information, I should really get back to the station to-”

 

Before he could move too far, he felt Izaya’s cold fingers slide around his wrist. The detective turned around to look at him and found Izaya staring back, his eyes wide and again showing that strange flat darkness Shizuo saw in Bar Benfiddich. His lips were turned down in small frown and his brow was furrowed in the centre of his forehead. It was an unsettling expression, one that didn’t suit him. It was soft and open and entirely out of place on his pointed face.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, quietly. There was a weight to his words that Shizuo didn’t understand, he was uncertain of what the man could possibly have to apologise for, not after he’d been nothing but helpful so far. The information broker drew in a breath and released his grip on Shizuo’s wrist, letting his hand drop to the arm of his chair. He stood up and rounded the desk so that he could cross the room to the sofas. “I meant what I said the other day. I really do understand what it means to be lonely.”

 

Shizuo opened his mouth to speak but found that he had nothing to say. Instead he simply followed Izaya and took a seat next to him on the sofa. The informant had already poured himself a short glass of whiskey and was busying himself with another for Shizuo. 

 

“You know, I’ve always been fascinated with monsters,” Izaya said, voice softer than his usual harsh tone. He pushed the now full glass across to Shizuo’s side of the coffee table. “I’ve always loved humans, watching them, seeing what they’ll do in certain situations. But you know, most of the time I can predict their actions and when that happens, I lose a little interest. But monsters - monsters are wild. They’re impossible and interesting and powerful - there is such perfection in monstrous power, don’t you think?”

 

Shizuo took a sharp sip of the drink Izaya had given him and paused to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “I’ve no idea what you’re goin’ on about.”

 

“I always wanted to be something extraordinary,” Izaya mused, half-talking to himself. “Something a little more than human.” He took a large gulp of his drink and turned his head to look at Shizuo. Slowly, a smile spread over his face and the dullness in his eyes was gone, replaced by shining excitement. The informant raised his free hand and gently stroked the side of Shizuo’s face. The detective tensed up, feeling as if an electric shock had just been sent down his spine. The already thick tension in the air became heavier and as Izaya leaned forward slightly, eyes dipping to the blond’s lips, Shizuo felt like he was suffocating. “You’re extraordinary.”

 

Before he could move any closer, the detective jolted backward and stumbled up onto his feet. Izaya remained where he was, hand still in the air, smile wider than ever. Shizuo drew in a breath and gathered the folder from the sofa, rambling meaningless sentences about having to leave. He bustled out of the apartment as quickly as he could, brain addled by the proximity of the strange information broker. Izaya watched him until the front door swung shut, at which point he let out a sigh and relaxed against the sofa cushions. He smirked to himself and raised the whiskey back to his lips, enjoying the burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat. Goodness knows he would need it - the rest of the night was going to be hectic, he thought. 

 

“I really am sorry, Shizu-chan,” he chuckled, placing the glass down onto the floor. He leaned down so that his eyes were level with the game board placed in the centre of the coffee table and keenly observed the pieces. There weren’t many moves left to play now. His gaze settled on a black chess pawn in the corner of the board and he raised his hand so that he could push it two squares closer to a white king. Shizuo’s flustered face was burned into his mind - he was so under the thumb, such a good puppet, he was perfect,  _ perfect!  _ With a gleeful cry, he lifted the king and crashed it down on the pawn over and over until it crumbled into pieces. His heart was racing, his face was flushed with heat from the thrill of the game. Now was the time to sever Haruna from his plans. He shoved an Othello piece into the same square as the black king and his eyes widened with excitement. Now was the time to take control of Saika.

 

According to the information he had gathered from Nebula, Saika had been the sword which severed the head of the Dullahan in the first place, thus Izaya theorised that it would be the only thing able to reattach it. He also believed that if stitched his perfect creature in the basement together using a splintered needle made from the demon blade then his creation would be completely under his control. From the information he’d noted about Saika and his observations of Haruna he’d deduced that the blade gave the wielder complete influence over the mind of its ‘children’. Even the thought of such control, such  _ power  _ \- Izaya squealed and fisted his hair, too full of energy to sit still. He leaned forward again and tapped the white king with his forefinger. 

 

“I’ll need that heart of yours soon!” he exclaimed, jumping up onto the sofa. He began merrily bouncing up and down, throwing his hands into the air. “I really am sorry, Shizu-chan. But I can’t pass up this opportunity! But don’t worry! Don’t fret! We’ll be monsters together in Valhalla, won’t we? We’ll have eternity! Me, you and my Valkyrie!”

 

The information broker shrieked with laughter for a moment, then flopped down onto the sofa and spread his arms and legs out. He hummed in satisfaction and laced his hands together over his stomach. As Izaya continued singing a tuneless song to himself, he dipped his hand beneath the hem of his shirt and ran his fingers up and down his torso. His fingertips lingered on the cold metal of the switchblade tucked into his waistband. He raised his other arm above his head and checked the time on his watch. 20:58PM. Izaya’s mouth stretched out into a thin smile. 

 

“Almost showtime.”

 

-0-

 

Shizuo leaned heavily against the wall of the elevator, head hanging between his arms. His heart was still racing, pulse pounding heavily in his ears and he couldn’t get the image of Izaya leaning forward out of his head. He could still smell the light musk of the informant in the air, he could almost taste the man’s blood on his tongue. The detective let out a shaky breath and scrunched his eyes shut. What was he thinking? He couldn’t be messing around while there was a murderer running riot in the city. The man shook his head and opened his eyes as the elevator doors slid open. Now was not the time to be fawning over a pretty face, he had to concentrate.  _ Concentrate.  _

 

It was cold outside, so he pulled his coat tight around his body and tucked the folder under his arm so that he could shove his hands into his pockets. There was a gentle sprinkle of rain falling from the sky, nothing too serious but enough to send a shiver down his spine. He exited the building and headed toward the gate. It was quiet out, there were barely any cars passing on the main road and there were no pedestrians on the pavement. Just as Shizuo reached the gate he heard a strange sound coming from behind him. A gentle tapping,  _ click click click -  _ footsteps.

 

“Detective Heiwajima?” came a dreamy voice. 

 

The man turned around to see a small figure standing a few feet away, directly beneath a streetlight. The direction of the light caused darkness to shadow the majority of the figure’s features. Shizuo squinted in the dim and took a few steps forward, brows furrowing in confusion. He paused his movements and his eyes widened in surprise when he recognised the person standing before him. There was that long, long hair, that perfect skin and crazed, unsettling eyes.

 

“H-Haruna Niekawa?” he asked, tensing up. Shizuo knew that most were no match for his strength but this girl was potentially dangerous so he prepared himself for a potential attack. “Are you Haruna?”

 

“Maybe,” she replied. Her voice was high-pitched and soft, he could have been fooled in thinking that she was gentle were it not for the knife that she slid from the pocket of her school blazer. She held it at arm’s length, level with his stomach, and cocked her head to one side. “Where’s Takashi?”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

Haruna tilted her head slowly to one side and a nightmarish smile split her beautiful face. “I followed you from the train station. You know where my lover is. I’ve been looking for such a long time. Tell me.” 

 

“We’ve been looking for you Haruna,” Shizuo said, as calmly as he could. His gaze dropped to  the blade in her hand. “We would like to talk to you. Put the knife down.”

 

“I can’t do that,” she answered, shaking her head. With an eerie giggle, she twisted the blade in the air and jabbed it forward a little. “Not until you tell me where my beloved Takashi is. We’ve been apart for such a long time.”

 

Shizuo scowled and held out his hand. “I can’t do that, Haruna. Give me the knife.”

 

“No, no, no. I don’t want - it’s not  _ him  _ I want to love. Shut up!” Haruna moaned, running a hand through her hair. Her lovely face creased up in pain and she started shaking her head madly back and forth. Shizuo raised a brow - she didn’t seem to be focused on him anymore, she appeared to be talking to herself. Her voice turned shrill and grew in volume. “No! I don’t want to cut him, I want my Takashi, Takashi’s who I love!”

 

The girl groaned loudly and started to beat her fists against the sides of her head, still clutching the blade between her fingers. Much to the detective’s alarm she began screeching, the sound ripped through the air like the cry of a banshee. She stamped her foot on the floor over and over in time with the beating on her temples - then suddenly she stopped and darted forward, slashing the knife out in front of her. Shizuo shouted in surprise and dipped to the left, narrowly missing the trajectory of the blade. Anger surged within him -  _don't kill her, don't kill her, control yourself. Focus. Concentrate._

 

“Fine, I’ll do what you want! He can give me my Takashi!” she shrieked, whirling around to face him. “I love him, he loves me, you’re all trying to keep us apart!” 

 

“Stop what you’re doing, put the knife down- now!” Shizuo ordered, rushing around behind her. He gripped her wrist and held it above her head so that she couldn’t slash him. Angrily, he bore his teeth at her and leaned back slightly to avoid her free hand which was clawing at his chest. “Put the knife down, Haruna!”

 

The girl wailed again and raised a leg so she could kick him in the shin. The detective grunted in pain but didn’t release her, even as she thrashed back and forth. With a growl he lifted her up so that her legs were flailing wildly in the air. The sleeve of her blazer slid down to her elbow and Shizuo noted the thick white bandage that was wrapped around forearm. 

 

“Let me go! Give me Takashi!” 

 

“Why did you kill those people, Chrome?” he hissed. He dragged her across the courtyard and pressed her back into the wall of the building so that he could hold her more securely. 

 

Haruna’s eyes widened with fury and she began screaming insults in his face. “My name isn’t Chrome, stop calling me that, why do you both call me that?! My name is  _ Saika. _ No, Haruna - I'm  _ Haruna _ .”

 

She raised her free hand and landed an unexpectedly vicious punch to his nose. The impact shocked him, as did the nasty crunch that emitted from his face and he stumbled backward, releasing Haruna from his grip. She was stronger than he imagined, inhumanly strong. Inhuman, yes,  _ she  _ was inhuman. Shizuo tripped over his own feet in his haste to dodge another of her attacks and he collapsed to the floor in a heap. He hurriedly turned onto his back just in time to see Haruna approaching, knife -  _ her pretty blade  _ \- in hand, eyes  _ glowing  _ a violent shade of crimson. 

 

“I’ve heard that Saika hurts like hell but don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” she exclaimed, her voice dipping into an eerie sing-song. “I’ll just use you to find my Takashi, then you can die like the rest of them. No-one else will stand in the way of our  _ love _ .”

 

Haruna lunged forward with the blade outstretched in hand. Shizuo drew in a breath and raised his forearm up to try and block her attack but much to his surprise the blow never came. A loud crash sounded from above him and when he peered out from under his arm, he saw that Haruna was being dragged away from him and her blade was on the floor by his feet. He stood up and saw that Izaya was behind her, one arm wound around her neck in a chokehold. Haruna screamed and shoved her elbow back into Izaya’s stomach so hard that he was sent to the floor. She turned and, as he was falling, scratched her nails deep into his face. 

 

“Izaya!” Shizuo shouted, running toward him. The informant held out a hand to indicate he was fine and drew in a winded breath. “Fuck, are you-?”

 

“Fine,” he gasped, clutching his stomach. Four deep, bloody gashes stretched across his cheek from Haruna’s nails. “Get h-her. I’ll call police.”

 

Shizuo turned away from Izaya just in time to see a flash, a blur of garish red - then pain. It was white-hot, it burned through the muscles of his chest and for a moment he thought it would overwhelm him. When the initial shock dulled, he gazed down at his torso to see the knife embedded in his right pectoral muscle. Blood was beginning to blossom across his shirt but he tried to concentrate, he had to take the psychotic killer down. She smirked at him, giggling maniacally, right up until the moment he yanked out the blade. Blood spurted from his chest and he grit his teeth together to stop himself from crying out. As he turned and threw it across the courtyard, the light in Haruna’s eyes died, returning her irises to a dull brown. It skittered beneath the dumpster that Izaya was leaning against, out of sight. Haruna’s smirk dropped and her eyes widened as the detective, bristling with anger, advanced toward her. 

 

Izaya watched Shizuo from behind, marvelling silently at the power radiating from his tensed body. Unseen, the informant slipped a hand beneath the dumpster and pocketed the blade. He slid another, one he’d stashed in a plastic bag in his inner pocket earlier in the evening, back into the original’s place. He’d been waiting for rain, just in case. Although his fingerprints weren’t on the replacement knife, the lack of the detective’s blood on the blade could be an issue. The growing puddle of rainwater beneath the dumpster would sort that out - there was already diluted blood mixed into the scum from where the original Saika had landed and the rain could be blamed on washing the replacement clean. The informant chuckled under his breath, congratulating himself on his own brilliance. 

 

“Haruna Niekawa, you are under arrest,” Shizuo growled, backing the girl up against the wall of the skyscraper. She made to run to the side but he slammed his hands down on either side of her head so hard that the concrete crumbled beneath his palms. Sirens sounded from the distance - assistance was on the way. “You have the right to remain silent.”

 

“Shut up!” Haruna shrieked, throwing out her hands so that she could tear at his shirt. Shizuo caught them easily and span her around so that he could pin her arms behind her back. The girl thrashed around as he rummaged in his pocket for cuffs but her movements were far less powerful than they were before. “I want Takashi! Let me see him!” 

 

“You have the right to an attorney.”

 

She continued screaming obscenities and began bashing her head repeatedly on the wall in front of her until blood splattered across the concrete. Shizuo gripped her forehead gently from behind and tried to calm himself - he needed to take this girl in alive, she couldn’t be allowed to kill herself, nor could he allow himself to lose control of the rage burning in his gut and kill her himself. Thankfully, the courtyard filled with flashing lights before he over-reacted and the area filled with the chatter of his fellow officers. 

 

“Heiwajima, you okay?”

 

He’d done it, he caught his killer. The blood loss was getting to him, his head was spinning. 

 

“He’s bleeding, get him to the ambulance.” 

 

He felt someone pry him away from the still screaming Haruna as his vision went fuzzy. 

 

“C’mon man, we got her, we got her.”

 

Shizuo blinked, consumed by the relief and the pain and the flashing lights that surrounded him.  

 

“Heiwajima?” 

 

His legs crumpled beneath him and the scene went black. 

 

-0-

 

Haruna was dragged past the information broker toward a police car, kicking and screaming. He made a face as if he were scared of her, quite the opposite of the utter delight he felt inside. There was one last thing he had to do, so he shuffled forward slightly acting as if he were dazed, right into Haruna’s path. Her arm brushed his, Saika shot through his forearm and pierced her skin. As Izaya was led to the ambulance Shizuo was being loaded into, he smiled and spoke clearly to his first ‘child’. 

 

_ Thanks for your help, Haruna. You've been most helpful.  _

 

_ I'm sorry you couldn't find your Takashi. If it's any comfort, I'll always love, love, love you!  _

 

_ Ah, Haruna. You should never have reached out to me in that suicide chat room, should you? _

 

_ Never mind.  _

 

_ Oh by the way.  _

 

_ When you get to the station.  _

 

_ Kill yourself.  _

  
  
  
  



	11. Mortem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here we go. The next three chapters are quite hectic before a (very) slight lull. Poor Shizuo, I'm sorry honey. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you so much for all your amazing reviews, by the way! I read each and every one and I really, really appreciate it (both praise and criticism!). I will endeavor to reply to your comments but forgive me if I'm a little slow.

Beep. Beep. _Beep._

 

Had to be a hangover, fuck his head hurt.

 

“Can you turn off my fucking alarm, Vorona?” Shizuo mumbled, throwing one arm out to the side she usually slept on. Instead of his best friend’s thin, warm body, he hit something cold, metal.

 

“Mr Heiwajima?”

 

The detective cracked open one eye to see a woman standing beside him, a woman he’d never seen before. “W-what’s going on? Shit, how much did I drink?”

 

The woman smiled warmly at him and shook her head gently. His vision began to focus, the plain white walls came into view, the sterile smell assaulted his nose.

 

“You're in the hospital, Mr Heiwajim-”

 

“Shizuo, it’s Shizuo.”

 

“Shizuo,” the woman repeated. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

Not a hangover then, he thought. His groggy mind started to piece things together. Chrome, Haruna, the fight. And-

 

“Where’s Izaya?” he groaned, trying to sit upright. A wave of nausea halted him, as did the woman - the nurse - who held his arm gently. “Is Izaya okay?”

 

The nurse nodded and gestured to her left with one hand. Shizuo glanced in the direction and saw the man in question slumped over in a chair by the steadily beeping machine. “He’s been sat here since you came in.”

 

Shizuo couldn't help but return her smile. “He has?”

 

“He must be a really good friend.”

 

“Yeah,” the detective answered, after a pause. He tilted his head to one side, observing the stitched up scratches on Izaya’s cheek, the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

 

The nurse patted his arm and gave a short sigh as she looked at Izaya. “I'll need to let the doctor and your team know you've woken up. Just press the button if you need anything, okay?”

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

She headed for the door but paused and turned just on the threshold. “You know, your body is fascinating. I-oh, sorry that came out wrong. Uh, what I mean is that you heal so quickly. At this rate you should be able to leave the hospital later this evening.”

 

Shizuo remained silent as the nurse shut the door behind her, staring at the mass of stitches running across his chest. He wondered what the nice, pretty nurse really thought of him. He’d heard things before, from doctors and staff who saw him when he was a child, a teenager, a young adult. _Anomaly. Specimen. Freak. Monster._ Shizuo remembered one particular occasion as clear as day. It had been during his junior year of school, after a particularly nasty fight with a group of seniors. He’d beaten them into the dust but one managed to smack him over the back of the head with a metal bat before he had chance to turn around. The blow had knocked him out and while he was unconscious the seniors continued their assault until another student came across the fight. Shizuo ended up in the critical ward at the local hospital but his body started the healing process almost immediately and after only two hours he was awake. He remembered the rage he felt when he woke up to find that his arms and one of his legs were broken. He remembered allowing the rage to consume him and trashing the hospital room. The IV was ripped from his arm, the plaster casts around his limbs were barely more than paper to his strength. By the time they managed to sedate him, he’d knocked out two doctors and thrown a nurse across the room. She screamed it, the most hated insult, when she landed.

 

_Monster, m-monster!_

 

They blamed it on the cocktail of drugs they’d given him, no charges were pressed. The present Shizuo believed that was hideously unfair but at the time it only cemented the idea that he only had to be violent to get his way. As he grew he realised that was not the way he should act, it only alienated him further. Instead he controlled his impulses, learned techniques to keep his rage in check. There were still times in his adulthood where he found himself blinded by white hot rage but it was certainly better than it had been. He clenched his fists at his sides and rolled his head back onto the pillow. Perhaps the pretty nurse thought he was a freak - no, she _definitely_ thought he was a freak. Everyone did.

 

“Shizuo?”

 

Except _him_. The detective turned his head to the side to see Izaya stirring from his slumber. He yawned loudly and rubbed his hands over his sleep-crusted eyes. Shizuo smiled softly at the informant and tried to sit up but the action sent pain shooting down his torso and he let out an aggravated hiss.

 

“Hey, hey,” Izaya mumbled, clearly still half-asleep. He dragged his chair closer to Shizuo’s bedside and pressed a hand against his sternum to push him back down. “Stay where you are. You got stabbed you idiot.”

 

Shizuo grit his teeth together in pain but still managed to muster a smile. From this angle he could see that there was a series of small stitches across Izaya’s cheek, injuries clearly from Haruna’s sharp nails. The detective raised his hand to the opposite side of his face and stroked a thumb across his cheekbone. He took in a breath and, for the first time in a while, high on painkillers and victory and adrenaline, he acted on impulse. Izaya didn’t tense up, even when Shizuo dragged him closer and spread his fingers across the back of his skull. He didn’t even blink.

 

“Izaya,” he murmured, under his breath. His eyelids became heavy, he found his mouth filling with saliva, his heart was racing as it had the previous night. The informant’s eyes were unreadable, dark and murky and devastatingly intoxicating. “Izaya. You were _extraordinary._ ”

 

Izaya’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open just as Shizuo pressed his lips over his. The detective felt his stomach twist nervously. He could taste blood from the cut on the informant’s bottom lip but they were so soft and supple that he couldn’t stop himself from pushing his tongue into his mouth. After a moment of surprised stillness, Izaya began moving, tongue lashing out at the detective’s, kiss turning rough.

 

“Izaya,” Shizuo groaned. His fingers tightened in the other man’s hair and he tugged it up so that he had better access to his throat. Izaya tensed as the blond began trailing violent kisses from his jaw bone to the base of his neck and after a few blissful moments, he pushed Shizuo back down onto the bed. The detective groaned in pain and his gaze moved up to Izaya’s eyes, searching for rejection. “Sorry, I-”

 

Izaya raised a finger to the man’s lips to silence him. “Hush. If you keep going I won’t be able to stop myself from- and I don’t think you should be doing anything of that sort in your present state.”

 

“But-”

 

“Another time,” Izaya murmured. He leaned forward and pressed a promising kiss to Shizuo’s cheek. With a gentle chuckle, he leaned down and rested his forehead against the detective’s. “By the way. Congratulations on capturing your killer.”

 

Shizuo grinned, despite the pain. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

Izaya laughed and turned his head to the side, eyes unfocusing as he stared blankly into the distance. He smiled again but it appeared a little less genuine than before, there was something behind it that Shizuo couldn’t quite place. “No, you couldn’t have.”

 

The informant patted his shoulder gently and leaned back in his seat, lacing his hands together in his lap. Shizuo chuckled lightly, amused by the other man’s self-aggrandising words.

 

“Your help was much appreciated,” he mumbled, resting his head back on the pillow behind him. He paused for a moment, trying to find the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I hope you won't be averse to working with me again in the future. If it's needed.”

 

“Hmm, well perhaps,” Izaya mused, lips twisting into a wry smile. “But I'll expect some sort of payment for any future services.”

 

Shizuo frowned. “Payment?”

 

Izaya’s eyes glinted with mischief and his smile rose on one side. “I take many forms of currency - yen, dollars, orgasms, pounds sterling…”

 

The detective flushed and just as he opened his mouth to reply the door swung open and the nurse poked her head around it. Izaya chuckled lightly under his breath at his clearly flustered state but said nothing further.

 

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr Heiwajima,” she apologised, bowing her head slightly. “We need to run some tests and change your dressings. Would you mind-?”

 

Izaya pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to the nurse. He smiled at her and she flushed a deep scarlet, clearly besotted. “I will leave him in your expert care, Nurse..?”

 

“Um, Sh-Shirota. Misaki Shirota.”

 

“Nurse Shirota. What a lovely name,” Izaya repeated, gently. He looked back over his shoulder at the detective and winked. “ Well, I've got to take my leave, Shizuo. Get well soon. Let me know when you're out and we’ll set up a _meeting_.”

 

The blond reddened almost as much as Shirota had and he nodded without saying a word. Izaya hummed a laugh and departed, grabbing his fur-lined coat from a stand on the way out. Nurse Shirota turned back to Shizuo and grinned widely, her eyes glimmering with a knowing look. He’d seen that look before, that one time he’d given Kadota a hug in front of Karisawa. Fucking fujoshis, they were everywhere. Two doctors entered the room before she could say anything further to him, one male, one female, and set about their work. Shizuo let his mind wander as they took blood samples, issued him with more painkillers, cleaned his wounds and taped him back up.

 

 _Izaya_. What on earth was he doing with Izaya? The man he’d deemed sly, arrogant, nasty even - how quickly his opinion had changed. No, he thought, not changed, he still thought the information broker was an arrogant little shit with a less than savoury occupation but that didn’t stop his heart from going crazy and his face flushing like he was a damn teenager.

 

“This is incredible. The stitching has almost been absorbed - it’s only been twenty four hours.”

 

The doctors were talking about him, prodding his wounds as if he were a cadaver rather than a living being.

 

“I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

 

The female peered up at him curiously, as if she were observing some newly-discovered creature. “Mr Heiwajima, would you consent to allow us to-”

 

It was a question he’d been asked hundreds of times before. The doctors, they all looked at him with hunger in their eyes, like he was a specimen rather than a man. Shizuo always replied with the same thing.

 

“Fuck _no_. Just lemme go home.”

 

-0-

 

Hours later, in the middle of the night, he was allowed to go home. The doctors had asked for him to stay in for a while longer but he insisted on leaving and without his consent they could hardly keep him in. Heck, even if they didn’t want his consent they wouldn’t have been able to force him to stay in bed - not if they didn’t want to end up unconscious.

 

He leaned back against the train seats, hand pressed over the gauze on his chest. Kadota and Vorona were both strangely absent from their phones, so he couldn’t get a lift home and he didn’t want to bother Izaya this late at night, not after the man bothered to stay with him for so long at the hospital. Shizuo didn't mind, in fact he appreciated the time alone for once, even if the journey pained him a little. Exhaustion was starting to hit him and he realised that it had been days since he’d been back to his apartment. Vorona often looked after his houseplants while he was away, she had a spare set of keys so he wasn’t worried about his place being left to rot while he was out on cases. His comfortable bed and a glass of his favourite whiskey was so close, he almost couldn’t bear the wait. He was only two stops away when his phone rang.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Shizuo,” came Izaya’s voice from the end of the line. “How are you?”

 

The blond smiled and relaxed a little in his seat. “Same as I was when you last saw me. Wasn't that long ago, y’know?”

 

The train screeched into the penultimate station and more people piled off onto the platform. The carriage was almost empty by the time it pulled away and continued on the journey. There was one person left, sitting a few seats to his right on the opposite side of the train, a woman. She was a beautiful creature, willowy in stature with shining hair that fell past her shoulders. Her pretty features were marred slightly by the dark scowl that pulled her lips down and creased the area between her brows. She had her arms folded across her chest and her back was straight - she gave off a haughty air that made Shizuo look quickly away. The man could feel the weight of her gaze from across the carriage but assumed she must be curious as to why he was injured, rather than a threat.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Izaya continued, cheerily. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t tear your stitches out.”

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

The information broker laughed lightly. “Impatience.”

 

Shizuo grinned and grabbed hold of the pole in the centre of the walkway so that he could pull himself to his feet. The buzzer overhead chimed and called out the name of his stop, so he moved closer to the door, further away from the woman who was still blatantly staring at him. The intensity of it was starting to make him feel uncomfortable and he briefly wondered if she might be ‘on’ something. It didn’t matter, he thought, as the train ground to a halt. He was so close to home and the woman wasn’t following him, so she must just be a little bit odd.

 

“Yeah, yeah, well I’m almost home,” Shizuo replied, pressing the button to open the doors. They slid open with an unpleasant grating sound and the detective stepped out onto the platform, shivering in the cool evening air. He began to make his way toward the exit, wincing ever so slightly with each step due to the shooting pain across his abdomen. “I’ll need to go to the station tomorrow to fill out some paperwork but d’you wanna go back to that bar in the evening? The one we went to last time?”

 

“You liked it?” Izaya asked, sounding pleased. The detective smiled to himself, vaguely nervous about the butterflies fluttering around his guts. He headed down the street outside the station and turned onto his road as Izaya continued to speak. “Yes, of course. I should be available from around seven.”

 

“Shall we meet at eight?” Shizuo suggested, heading up the steps to his apartment door. “I’ll buy this time, I owe you one.”

 

Izaya chuckled. “Just one?”

 

“Well, maybe more than one,” he agreed. He shoved his keys into the door and paused as he rested his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks again, for everything. I- I really mean it. People tend to be afraid of me but-” He trailed off, words catching on the tip of his tongue. _\- but you treated me like a human being._ Shizuo shook his head and let out a sigh. “Thanks. Means a lot.”

 

There was a crackle at the end of the line, as if Izaya was moving, then his voice came clear through the speaker. “You shouldn’t thank me.”

 

“Yeah, well I’m going to anyway,” Shizuo joked, trying to lighten the suddenly serious tone of the conversation. He grinned again and turned the doorknob, shoving the stiff wood open with his shoulder. “Right, I’ll see you tomorrow, kay?”

 

“Good night, Shizuo,” Izaya answered. “Have a good sleep.”

 

The line went dead just as he flicked on the light and shut the door behind him. The tinny drone from the speaker continued even after Shizuo dropped his phone to the floor. The first thing that hit him was the _smell._ It was vile, a rotting, wretched stench that forced its way into his nostrils and the back of his throat. The man gagged at at the smell, that familiar smell, and turned, raising his arm to protect his nose and mouth. The protection didn’t help and, upon the sight of the source of the smell, Shizuo heaved and retched and vomited the meager contents of his stomach over the floor. After the initial wave of nausea passed, he stumbled backward and slumped down against the door, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“No, no, no-”

 

He repeated his denial over and over until his face turned ruddy and tears slid down his cheeks. The man screwed his eyes shut but when he opened them the disgusting sight was still there - it was real. This wasn’t a dream. Shizuo cried out in anger and pounded his fist back against the door and the wood splintered beneath the heavy weight of his strength.

 

Scrawled in red on the kitchen wall, just above the counter, a gigantic, gleeful brag.

 

‘ _BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME, SHIZU-CHAN’_

 

And below that, placed on the countertop next to a bloody knife-block, mouth agape and eyes staring lifelessly at the ground, was the sawn-off head of his best friend Vorona.

 


	12. Duo insanire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, poor Vorona. I'm glad you're all enjoying so far. I decided to go for a bit of a slower chapter (I split a very very long one into two), so here we catch up with Haruna, Izaya and Namie. More of a character exploration chapter, so I hope you like it. 
> 
> The next chapter will move back to Shizuo, the aftermath and a little enlightenment.

“Haruna Niekawa. I’m seventeen years old.”

 

She can hear a voice whispering in her ear, Saika’s voice, a man’s voice, hundreds of voices, always.  _ Tell them you killed them all.  _

 

“And before you ask, yes, I killed those people.”

 

_ Give them the details. _

 

So she did, she relayed every last piece of information that sinister voice whispered in her ear, every last atrocity, admitting to things that she hadn’t committed herself. The officers sat on the other side of the table looked at her with disgust obvious in their eyes but Haruna kept talking, she kept lying - she had to, she had no choice but to do what the voice told her. 

 

_ Tell them you’re Chrome. Tell them you’ve been watching Shizu-chan.  _

 

“I’m Chrome. I’ve been watching Shizu-chan.”

 

It didn’t take long for the officers to move her to a holding cell. She could hear them talking in the hallway but their whispers were too frantic to properly discern what they were saying. It didn’t matter, she thought, staring down at her shoes, there’s was nothing they could do to or for her at this point.

 

_ You’re a good girl but it’s time to go to sleep.  _

 

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I just wanted to be with Takashi.”

 

_ You shouldn’t have played with demons then, should you Haruna? _

 

The girl stood up, eyes glowing a fierce shade of red. She slid a hand into her shirt and dipped into her bra so that she could fish out the small, sharp piece of metal that she’d sewn into the underside of the cup. 

 

_ Sleep well, child. _

 

An alarm sounded and a custody guard ran into the main bull-pen at the station. He raised his blood-covered hands and screamed for a medic, gesturing wildly to the corridor that held the cells. The girl was dead as dust before the ambulance arrived. Her facial expression was in stark contrast to the grim violence of the rest of the scene. Blood saturated her pretty hair, her clothes, the floor, pumping out of the major arteries she’d torn into. The small piece of metal lay shiny and red in her hand. But her mouth was set in a lopsided half-smile and her big eyes were absent of their former madness, replaced by simple, dead peace. 

 

-0-

 

He stared at the back of her for over half an hour, tapping his forefinger on the body of his laptop as if impatient. Namie had her headphones in so she didn’t hear him and she recently moved her chair to the other side of the table so she didn’t even have to look at him anymore. If he were a more secure man he might have let it go but Izaya was a self-aware narcissist and his ego  _ hated _ the way his secretary ignored him. Namie stood up briefly to throw a stack of papers into a box on the other side of her desk. Izaya was bored out of his mind - he knew that Shizuo had probably discovered his little  _ present  _ by now, he was probably having a break-down. It irritated him that he didn’t get to see it but he could hardly turn up out of the blue, he’d worked too hard to ruin his plan at that stage. Namie had returned around ten minutes ago, after taking the same train as Shizuo to confirm that he was heading back home. She’d ignored him since then, even though she  _ knew  _ he was bored. 

 

Izaya allowed his gaze to wander her willowy form - it was leery but she still wasn’t looking at him and even if she were he wouldn’t give a shit. She was wearing her usual attire, sans white coat, but her hair was tied up in a loose bun on the top of her head. The information broker wrinkled his nose - he preferred it when it was loose and long over her shoulders. He told her that once, which was probably why she had taken to tying it up. With a huff he picked up a pen and began tapping that on the edge of the table, as if the rhythmic motion was going to calm him down. Namie sat back down at her desk, absent-mindedly shuffling more papers over the surface. The issue was he couldn’t just  _ tell her  _ that he wanted attention. No, he could imagine the smug smirk on her face - that look certainly wouldn’t do. 

 

Before he even realised what he was doing, he’d thrown the pencil at the back of her head. Namie stiffened in her seat and after a moment, she gently tugged her earphones out and turned to face him. Her brows were drawn down, mouth set in a scowl, eyes burning with a hatred she reserved especially for Izaya. 

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?”

 

“I’m bored.”

 

Namie scoffed and slammed a hand down on the paperwork on the desk. “I’m busy sorting out  _ your  _ fucking messes, so leave me alone.”

 

“Don’t shout at me, I don’t like it,” Izaya groaned, narrowing his eyes. “I might end up killing you.”

 

“As if,” the woman replied, laughing unpleasantly. “You need me more than you’d like to admit, freak.”

 

Izaya leaned back in his chair and a lazy smirk spread out across his face. “You’re so funny, Namie. I’d be fine without you.” 

 

His secretary rose to her feet and stomped across the room to stand on the other side of his desk. She bent at the waist and leaned against the edge of the table on the heels of her hands. She bore her teeth at him but the animalistic appearance was vaguely masked by a nasty smile. Izaya rested his cheek on his knuckles and leaned closer, so that they were only a few inches away from one another. He liked Namie in an odd sort of way, she was well aware of his murderous desires, just as he was of her sick experiments. Despite the hold he had over her due to his well thought out blackmail, she never truly relented. Her attitude was constantly snarky, aggressive but he didn’t mind, he was much like that himself. Their relationship was a consistent power struggle that they both seemingly enjoyed - well, it kept them interested at least. Although, these days Izaya found himself acting with a modicum of caution around Namie - he didn’t doubt for a second that she would slip poison into his drink if he didn’t watch her closely. 

 

“You’d be  _ nothing  _ without me,” she hissed. “Or did you forget that I was the one who-”

 

Before she could speak any further, there was a knife at her throat. Her eyes widened and followed the blade up to see it protruding from Izaya’s extended arm. He chuckled under his breath but she didn’t move, she simply focused on the buildings outside the window behind him, unwilling to give him the pleasure of seeing fear in her eyes. Namie hadn’t seen Saika thus far, he’d kept the blade hidden out of sight and though he’d spoken at length on its power, she still hadn’t been prepared to see it jutting out of his skin like that. 

 

“Hush now, dear,” he cooed, tapping the flat of the blade to her cheek. “Wouldn’t want me to slip and cut you, would you? It’d ruin your pretty face.”

 

“Fuck you,” she seethed, standing back upright. She batted the blade away, careful to hit the flat with her sleeve so it didn’t slice into her flesh. It wasn’t the pain that she feared but the terrifying prospect of Izaya controlling her mind. She made a face at him and folded her arms across her chest. “Are you compensating for something?”

 

Izaya raised a brow. “You of all people should know I’m not.”

 

Namie felt her cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She didn’t like to think about that time, that time before she knew exactly who he was and what he intended to use her for. That night in the bar she frequented when she wanted to drink away her anger about her brother’s upcoming nuptials. At that point he’d just been a handsome man, one that looked like he might be bad for her by the nasty curve of his smile and the dark glimmer of his eyes. Namie had been pissed off, tipsy and more than happy to distract herself with a throwaway fuck. It was only when the morning arrived, when the hangover hit, that she realised he wasn’t going to let himself be cast away so easily. He wasn’t just some rogue bad-boy character - no, he was  _ far  _ worse for her than she’d initially thought. The information broker introduced himself properly while they were still stretched out naked in her bed - she remembered the utter panic that hit her when he started to reel off all the atrocities she’d committed and all the things he wanted her to do for him. If she'd been of a more sensitive disposition she might have been annoyed but as it was the experiments he wanted to conduct were of interest to her which made the blatant blackmail a little easier to swallow. 

 

The woman swallowed thickly and pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. “Let me see how that sword works.”

 

The information broker laughed again and allowed the blade to slide back beneath his skin. He stood and rounded the table, moving his hands to his pockets. He turned so that he could lean back against the desk as Namie stood in front of him between his legs. Izaya flexed his hand and held it up so that she could examine it. There was a wide, bloody cut on his forearm where the blade had burst from his skin. She gently ran her fingers across it and collected his blood on the tips, raising a brow curiously. 

 

“Can you make it appear from any part of your body?” she asked, wiping her hand on his sleeve. Izaya nodded, watching her closely. Namie hummed softly, brows furrowing in the centre of her forehead. “Does it hurt?”

 

“Yes, it does,” he sighed, frowning slightly. “Saika is a little harder to control than I first thought. She doesn’t seem to like me that much.”

 

Namie smirked and fixed his gaze. “Does anyone?”

 

“Har-har,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “It is rather strange, Haruna never had this issue. I imagine it’s because I stole the sword and branched it out. Oh boy, you should have heard the demon screeching - that was really something. I need to start using the blade more, I need to learn to control it better so it’ll stop trying to skin me.”

 

The woman ran her forefinger up and down the cut, moving her head closer to get a better look. Izaya swallowed as a slight shiver ran down his spine. He’d never been a very tactile person, he’d only ever had sex because it gained something else for him. If he were the one to instigate, if he were the one leading the dance, then he didn’t mind but he despised the way his body reacted without prior planning. Namie must have noticed the slight shudder because she smiled and dragged her fingers up to the known sensitive spot in the crook of his elbow. He disgusted her, sure, but that didn’t mean she would miss an opportunity to make him uncomfortable. 

 

“I thought you had more control,” she murmured. Izaya scowled - the double meaning wasn’t lost, she was playing with him and he hated it.  _ He  _ was the puppet master, not  _ her _ . But when she began drawing lazy circles around his pulse point he felt his irritation fade. Namie leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear. Power play, he thought, don't rise to it. “Child.”

 

She dug her fingers into the cut, tearing it open wider, bloodier. Izaya gasped and his hips bucked against Namie’s at the sensation. The woman knew him too well, she could manipulate him just as well as he could her. It was maddening in a way - he would have to kill her soon. Another voice piped up in the back of his head -  _ no.  _ She was still too valuable. 

 

“Fuck,” he breathed. He grabbed the back of her head with his free arm and dragged her closer. With his teeth bared, he spat his next words at her. “I'm going to fucking kill you one day.”

 

She lurched forward and smacked her head against his just as he began to unleash the blade beneath his skin. Izaya groaned and fell back against the desk, mind spinning and arm bleeding profusely. Namie’s retreating figure was just a blur. 

 

“Not if I kill you first,  _ Izaya _ .” 

 

The informant grinned and shakily pushed himself away from the desk, letting Saika sink back into his body. He pulled his sleeve down and wrinkled his nose when he felt the fabric stick to the seeping wound on his forearm. “Wanna make a bet?”

 

Namie collapsed onto the sofa with a huff and reached for the television remote so she could switch on the news. She ignored Izaya as he sat down beside her. “I don't take bets on my own life, freak.”

 

“Then perhaps something else?” Izaya replied, settling his arms across the back of the sofa. Namie looked at his quizzically and he jerked his head toward the scene unfolding on the television screen. A reporter was stood outside of an apartment block in Ikebukuro - there had been another murder. “How long until Shizu-chan calls?” 

 

The woman smirked and leaned against the armrest. “I'd give it about an hour.” 

 

“Hmm, I'll say forty-five minutes,” he challenged, setting a timer on his phone. He turned his eyes back up to the television and drew his bottom lip in between his teeth. The end was drawing near, he was so close, so close. He’d finally obtained the perfect body, he’d branched off a piece of Saika to use as a sewing needle, the beautiful head was waiting in stasis deep beneath his feet - all he needed now was the final piece. The strong, pulsating heart of a monster to complete his creation. Izaya almost squeaked with excitement but held it back due to Namie’s presence. “You know, I’ve been dreaming about this for months. I saw it going a little differently, but-”

 

“How did you see it?” she asked. 

 

Izaya smiled and thought back to the daydream he’d experienced many times in the past.  _ “Don’t cry, we can be monsters together,” he purred. When he began to affectionately kiss the blond locks beneath him Shizuo let out a noise akin to a sob and Izaya felt his pulse race joyously. “I love you, Shizu-chan.”  _ He chuckled beneath his breath and relaxed back into the pillows. “It was more theatrical.”

 

“ _ More  _ theatrical? Jesus, I can only imagine.”

 

“I’ve come to realise that the real life experience will be quite different, although I must say I’m not exactly unhappy about that,” he sighed, waving a hand in the air. “The result will be the same.”

 

Namie rolled her eyes and sank back into the cushions. “I’m only here because you’re blackmailing me. That, and I’m interested in your experiment.”

 

“Oh really, what a shame. I thought you were head over heels in love with me,” he replied, sarcastically. Namie smirked and stretched out with a yawn, shoving her feet onto his lap. Izaya tensed a little but if the action bothered him he didn’t let it show on his face. He kept his hands at his sides and his gaze focused on the television. 

 

They sat in silence for forty three minutes, blankly watching some cartoon that neither of them cared about. The scene looked vaguely intimate from the outside, they could have been mistaken for a young couple if one didn’t know better. Both of them had to admit that they were strangely comfortable around the other - perhaps it was the shared interest in mutilation that brought such a feeling. On the forty fourth minute, Izaya’s phone began to ring. The information broker grinned widely and held up the mobile so that Namie could see the screen. 

 

“I win.”

 


	13. Momentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys! Been working on an Attack on Titan piece called Rotten and am busy with life/stress in general at the moment. This is a bit of a quick chapter to get the plot moving, the next chapter is the beginning of three where shit. goes. down. 
> 
> After that, the second half of this story will begin! I'm really looking forward to showing you guys!

The lab was cold, Shinra’s hands were cold. The heat of his anger had dissipated, he felt almost numbed by the chill of the evening. There was blood running down his chest from the freshly-opened wound on his chest. Shinra was standing beside him, deft fingers working to stitch him back together. He’d managed to tear the neat sutures during the panic of discovering the grim scene at his apartment and the doctor had insisted he patch him up before allowing him to speak with the head of the department. Kadota was sat in a chair a few feet away. He’d been silent for a while, crouched over with his head in his hands. 

 

Shizuo gripped the edge of the table and drew in a deep breath as Shinra looped the final stitch through his skin. He broke the tense silence with his usual lack of grace. “What the fuck is going on?”

 

The doctor hesitated, then looped the surgical thread around the needle and snipped the extra length off with a pair of scissors. He set his instruments into a metal tray which was placed on the table next to Shizuo’s thigh, then removed his glasses so that he could wipe the stray drops of blood from the lenses. 

 

“I don’t know,” he replied, tonelessly. “I don’t know.”

 

“Her head was in my house,” Shizuo said, still somewhat dazed by the entire situation. “It was just on the counter like a fucking slab of meat.”

 

Shinra swallowed and pushed his glasses back onto his nose. “If you need to stay with us while your apartment is-”

 

“There was blood on my wall-”

 

“ _ Stop _ ,” came Kadota’s harsh gasp from the other side of the room. 

 

Shizuo pushed himself off the table and pulled his bloody shirt back onto his body. As he buttoned it up, he walked over to Kadota and stood in front of him. When he finished, he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Kadota dropped his hands and raised his head, revealing his red raw eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Shizuo mumbled, quietly. “I thought I’d finished this but-”

 

“Don’t apologise for anything, Shizuo,” Kadota stated, a little more forcefully than intended. “This isn’t your fault, it’s no-one’s fucking fault but the sick fuck who d-did this.”

 

The man’s eyes filled with tears again and he lowered his head as his shoulders started to shake. Shizuo grit his teeth together and wrapped his arms around his friend’s back as he silently wept into his stained shirt. The detective sighed and pulled back after a moment, turning back to look at Shinra with tears forming in the corner of his own eyes. 

 

“Are we done?” he asked, rubbing a bloody sleeve across his eyes before any tears could fall. “I gotta speak to the Chief.”

 

Shinra chewed his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, I’m all done, but-”

 

The blond didn’t wait for the doctor to finish his sentence, he’d already barged through the door between the lab and the corridor which led down to the main bull-pen. Kadota and Shinra followed him shortly after, the latter calling his name in a panic. Shizuo peered over his shoulder at the doctor and raised a brow. 

 

“What’re you yammering about?”

 

Shinra held out a hand and laid it on his shoulder, panting slightly at the speed he had to exert to catch up with the larger man. “Look, I think it’s only fair that I tell you. Y’know as your friend and-”

 

“What?” Shizuo asked, exasperated. “Shinra, just talk please. I’m in no mood to play around with you today.”

 

The bespectacled man chewed his bottom lip nervously and glanced sideways at Kadota, who was looking at him with confused, reddened eyes. “Um. The Chief mentioned to me earlier, well, I overheard-”

 

“ _ Shinra. _ ”

 

“Look, don’t shoot the messenger. They’re gonna take you off this one, Shizuo,” Shinra sighed, swallowing thickly. “Things are too complicated now. I mean, Vorona’s  _ dead _ -”

 

The doctor kept talking but Shizuo was already storming down the corridor. When he arrived at the main office he tore the door open so roughly that it was ripped off the hinges and clattered to the floor between him and his friends. 

 

-0- 

 

“Stop swinging around in your chair, you’re going to spill something.”

 

Izaya let out a childish whine and slapped a hand down on the desk to halt his spins. “You’re no fun at all, Namie, you know that?”

 

The woman dropped a stack of papers onto his hand and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight of his wide, toothy smile. “You’re going to kill someone later, could you at least try to act like an adult?”

 

“Pfft, where the fun in that?” Izaya scoffed, flapping a hand at her to shoo her away from his desk. “Have you got everything sorted downstairs?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

The informant hummed appreciatively and leaned his elbows against the desk so that the could rest his chin on his palm. “Do you think I should try and fuck him before I kill him?”

 

Namie scowled at him and turned around to head back to her allotted desk on the other side of the room. “You’re so vile. Do what you want, just don’t do it near me.”

 

“Jealous?”

 

“Of you, perhaps,” Namie said, breezily. “Heiwajima’s quite the looker. But not of him, I’d rather not touch your disgusting bonebag body again.”

 

Izaya feigned insult and clapped a hand across his forehead. “How cruel!” 

 

“Says the bastard who decapitated a woman whilst singing ‘Hello, Goodbye’ the other evening.”

 

“I didn't know you liked the Beatles, Namie! How wonderful!”

 

The woman scowled and folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. She turned on her heel so that she could face him and lean back against her office chair. Izaya was grinning back at her, eyes alight with excitement. He was undoubtedly replaying the atrocity she had just mentioned over and over in his mind. His smile widened, his teeth visible in the light of the afternoon. A shudder run down her spine. Izaya didn’t scare her exactly, he was too childish and annoying to be properly terrifying, but there was something unsettling about the man, about the stark difference between his somewhat innocent, boyish features and deeply disturbing personality. Even as unpleasant a person as Namie was herself, sometimes she remembered that the man sat behind the desk was  _ far  _ worse, far more dangerous than she was fully aware of. It would not do to forget his atrocities and pin him purely as an idiotic freak, she thought. 

 

“What do you think is going to come of all this?” Namie asked, softly. 

 

Izaya pushed the chair away from the desk so that he could stand upright and spin around to look out of the gargantuan windows that made up one wall of his office. He spread his arms out wide and gave a satisfied chuckle, pressing his hands fat against the glass. Namie watched him silently for a moment before walking across the room and standing by his side. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular, his eyes were darting rapidly back and forth across the cityscape as if searching for something. 

 

“I don’t know,” he murmured, tracing his fingers down the glass until they dropped to his sides. He continued staring out of the window and, for once, his smile dropped into a straight, hard line. “Monsters are irritatingly unpredictable. But I suppose that is what makes them so interesting.”

 

“You speak in riddles sometimes, Izaya,” Namie sighed, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “You have no idea what's going to happen. I think you should be more afraid of the future than you are.”

 

The informant turned his head to the side so he could lock gazes with Namie. His mouth was still set in that unfriendly frown and all the excitement had drained from his eyes, leaving them empty and hollow in their sockets. “I can't predict the future, Namie. But things usually go my way. Look at you.”

 

“I hope you crash and burn in hell,” she sneered, leaning closer to him. 

 

He leaned forward too and nasty smiles spread across their faces, mirror images of one another. “If I do I'll be sure to drag you down with me.”

 

Namie laughed and flicked his nose, which caused him to jerk backward. She giggled and turned on her heel, headed towards the door. “I'd like to see you try. I'm going to go downstairs and start preparing everything. Don't call me if you need help.”

 

“Charming.”

 

She glanced one final time over her shoulder before heading out of the apartment. “By the way, one vial’s in the kitchen, the other is in your bedside table. You know, if you do somehow manage to drag Heiwajima into your bed.” 

 

“You're so thoughtful! I love you Namie! You're the best!” Izaya clapped his hands together in excitement and threw himself back into his office chair so he could begin spinning again. He pulled his phone from his pocket and slowed his movements so that he could unlock the screen. A sharp grin cut across his face. “Now, let's get this show on the road.”

  
  


-0- 

  
  


“Don’t you fucking  _ dare  _ tell me to calm down!” Shizuo roared, slamming his fist against the wall. The plaster cracked beneath his hand and crumbled onto the floor as he drew his arm away. His face was near purple with anger and his whole body was shaking violently, as if he were about to explode. “Vorona’s dead! Chrome stuck her fucking head in  _ my _ house and smeared her blood over  _ my _ walls. This was directed at me - fuck. I thought I'd caught them. How did I get this wro-”

 

“Haruna Niekawa confessed to all the murders before she-” the Chief paused, face falling into a frown. “She confessed in great detail, things we’d never released, things no-one but the murderer could have known - how do you explain that?”

 

Shizuo growled under his breath and placed his hands on his hips. “I don’t fucking know. There’s two of them, there’s gotta be two of them.”

 

“Forensics confirm that the remains in your apartment have been there for longer than forty eight hours - that’s  _ before  _ you met Niekawa in Shinjuku. Added to that she  _ admitted  _ to the crime!” 

 

The blond ran a hand through his hair then crashed it into the wall. The plaster crumbled beneath his fingertips but it wasn't enough, he couldn't control himself. He let out a vicious snarl and slammed both his hands down on the Chief’s desk so hard that the legs collapsed and the surface cracked straight down the middle. The computer toppled to the floor alongside a number of folders and family pictures, all piling at Shizuo’s feet. “Better. Luck.  _ Next. _ Time.”

 

The Chief stood up and gestured to the door. “Look, I’m sorry. Your personal affiliation with the victim is clouding your judgement, Heiwajima. Go stay with a friend, you’re off this case.”

 

“That's what it said! That's what it said on my fucking wall-”

 

“Get out before you do something you’ll regret,” his superior sighed. He looked down at the mess that was once his desk and shook his head. “Look, I’m not trying to screw you over here. Vorona was one of us - we’ll find out who hurt her. I know you want to help but we  _ can’t  _ have you on the case when you’re like this -  like goddamn dynamite. There’s too much risk, Shizuo. You must understand that.”

 

“I’m not a fucking liability. I’m not-,” the blond snapped, still shaking with rage.  _ -a monster.  _ He tried to calm himself down but he couldn’t, so he turned to face Kadota and let out a breath. “Get me outside before I destroy this entire fucking building.”

 

Kadota nodded and laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, unsurprised when he felt the solid muscles beneath trembling with reserved anger. “C’mon.”

 

The Chief shook his head again and called out to the two men as they departed. “Look after each other, okay?”

 

Shizuo clenched his fist at the obvious implication.  _ Kadota, look after Shizuo.  _ “Fuckin’ asshole.”

 

They didn’t speak until they were outside the station. Shizuo stormed out into the parking lot, smacking down another signpost on the way for good measure. He’d most likely regret his destructive actions later but in that moment he was too distraught to care. How dare they take him off the case, this was his fault,  _ his fault _ , he should be the one to shoulder the burden of finding the killer. He searched in his jacket pocket for a cigarette and slumped against the side of a building as he lit the end. The tobacco didn’t calm him down for once, it only intensified the jitters making his hands shake. Shizuo took in another long breath and growled as he made his way over to Kadota’s beat-up old car. He leaned back against it and let out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. 

 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbled, running a hand over his forehead. “I’ve a mind to beat the shit outta that guy for doing this.”

 

Kadota sighed and leaned against the bumper next to the blond. “It’s shit but I think it might be the right thing to do. If you caught the guy you’d probably rip his head off.”

 

Shizuo winced at the reference, the image of Vorona’s mutilated head still fresh in his mind. “Would I be wrong if I did?”

 

“Course not,” Kadota replied. He held out his hand for a toke of Shizuo’s cigarette and drew in a long breath as the other man watched. He didn’t usually smoke, in fact he’d given up years ago when he first met Mikage, but he often bugged Shizuo for one if he was feeling particularly stressed or drunk. When he was done he let out a sigh of smoke and handed the cigarette back. “But I doubt Vorona would want you to go to jail on her account.”

 

“‘Spose not,” the blond murmured. 

 

“It is bad idea, Shee-zu-oh,” Kyouhei drawled, in an impression of Vorona’s accent. “You are too pre-ee-ty for jail.” The two men smiled at one another and Shizuo let out a sad excuse for a laugh. A moment later, Kadota’s face dropped into a serious expression and he raised his gaze to the other man’s. “Look man, I know nothing I say is going to stop you from going after this on your own-”

 

“I’m n-”

 

Kadota glared at him and shoved his shoulder lightly. “I’m not a fool, Shizuo. I know you and I know you’re not gonna let this lie. Just be careful, okay? I’m not gonna rat on you but, well - don’t kill anyone.”

 

Shizuo smiled half-heartedly. “You not gonna advise me not to get killed?”

 

The brunet snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “You think anyone can kill you? Plus, it’s implied you jackass.” He pushed himself off the bumper and turned to face Shizuo with his hand outstretched. The blond took hold of it and gripped it tightly, swallowing thickly when he saw fresh tears brewing in the corners of Kadota’s eyes. “I’m sorry but I can’t-”

 

“You’ve got a wife, Kyouhei - a kid comin’. I wouldn’t let you join me even if you wanted to,” Shizuo interrupted, shaking his head. He laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave him a smile. “I’ll fucking get ‘em for all of us.”

 

The smaller man lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Shizuo’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. “I know you will.”

 

-0- 

 

Izaya peered down at the buzzing phone on the coffee table and smirked as he held it up to his ear. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

_ “Izaya, I’m coming over. Are you home?” _

 

“Shizuo?” he greeted, his smile stretching wider. “Yeah, I’m home. What’s the matter?”

 

_ “Too complicated. I’m sorry to bother you again so soon but there’s no-one else I can go to and I really, really need your help, Izaya.” _

 

The informant leaned back on the sofa cushion and made gestured at Namie, who was lounging in the armchair next to him. She glanced over at him and grimaced, as she always did. “Sure, come over. You sound upset, are you okay?” 

 

_ “No, not really. I’ll tell you when I get there. I really am sorry for bugging you again so soon after that Haruna shit, it’s just-” _

 

“Shizuo, don’t apologise. I’m happy to help if it’s you,” Izaya said, his serious tone starkly different from the wide grin on his face. He clicked at Namie to get her attention, then made a finger gun at the phone with his free hand. With a wink, he simulated pulling the trigger and she got to her feet, rolling her eyes. “Come over, I’ll make a drink for you.”

 

_ “Thanks Izaya, see you soon.”  _

 

The dial tone buzzed in his ear, Namie was gone, he was alone. Izaya spread his arms out over the back of the sofa and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. He thought on what Namie said earlier in the day.  _ I think you should be more afraid of the future than you are.  _ The informant started cackling loudly, suddenly, hands wrapping around his torso as stitches started to send pain down his sides. 

 

“Oh, Namie,” he laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes. There was nothing he feared other than death and he was already well on his way to solving that little issue. 

 


	14. Indesinens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy. Warning, this chapter is quite violent.

_ Vorona cracked open her second beer and took a long gulp. She had stopped in the supermarket briefly on her way back to Shizuo’s apartment to pick up some food and a large quantity of alcohol. It had been a shit day at work, a shit day in general. Shizuo’s place was like a second home to her, as hers was to him, so she didn’t feel bad about letting herself in to wait for him. The woman needed her friend that night, he was always so good at cheering her up. Part of her felt bad about bothering him but she was sure he wouldn’t mind keeping her company if she repaid him with dinner and drinks. She peered down at her phone to check the time - he was really late tonight.  _

 

_ “Where are you Shizuo?” she grumbled to herself, laying on the floor.  _

 

_ The TV buzzed loudly beside her, showing some game show that she wasn’t interested in. Her stomach rumbled hungrily. She blindly reached beside her for the bag of crisps she had discarded earlier. Unable to find them, she sat up and retrieved them from the floor. Vorona knew she was a pathetic sight - dressed in Shizuo’s pajamas, stuffing her flushed face with tortilla chips and booze. But she had to keep her mind off work and the face of her recent ex, off her soft lips and teasing glances.  _

 

_ “Ugh!” she groaned, laying back down. Her stomach growled again - she should have bought more than just crisps to snack on. A knock sounded from the front door, which caused her to sit up. Her friend never usually had visitors. Perhaps it was Kyouhei? She got to her feet and padded barefoot across the room so that she could unlock the door. “Hello?” _

 

_ “Hi there!”  _

 

_ Vorona was an exceptional fighter, she’d grown up surrounded by violent people and violent acts. She could go hand to hand with Shizuo due to her dexterity and speed. But she was in a safe place, on another average day and she hadn’t been expecting the burst of mace that was sprayed into her eyes from across the threshold. Vorona cursed loudly and stumbled backward, hands flying up to rub her burning face. She opened her reddened, swollen eyelids but her vision was so blurry that all she could see were the colours of the objects in front of her, all definition was skewed. _

 

_ “Fuck, shit!” she swore, swinging her arms around to try and find the person who attacked her. “What the fuck?” _

 

_ “Such a sailor mouth for such a pretty girl,” a voice cooed, from behind her. She whirled around and swung a fist in the direction of the sound but before it landed laughter bubbled behind her. The person was fast, almost as fast as her at her best. “Ah well, it’s not like I’ll be needing your mouth anyway.” _

 

_ “What are you talking about?” Vorona spat. It was definitely a man speaking. His tone was rather sing-song, it sounded like he was mocking her and laughter seeped from his words. She recognised it from somewhere but in her panic she couldn’t initially place it. Her vision was still blurred, but she could see things slightly clearer than before so she managed to land a blow on the person’s torso. He grunted in pain and stumbled backward, which gave Vorona the opportunity to slam her foot against his knee.  _

 

_ “Fuck! Feisty little shit,” he snarled. Vorona lunged at them again and violently smashed her elbow against his face. The man growled and shoved his knee into her stomach, which sent her clashing to the floor. Before she could get up, he’d straddled her waist and pinned her to the ground by the throat. When she glared up at him she found that she could finally see him clearly.   _

 

_ “Y-you?” Vorona gasped, under the crushing weight of his chokehold. It was that odd man from the train station, the one who called her perfect. He was panting from the exertion of holding her down and his nose was bleeding profusely.  _

 

_ “I knew you’d be a pain,” he said, sounding disgusted. A bright smile broke out across his face and he tightened his grip on her throat. Vorona began to panic as the air left her lungs and her face started to purple due to the pressure. “Such a shame, you really are very beautiful. Still, needs must.” _

 

_ The man carried on talking but she couldn’t hear him. Blood rushed through her ears, heartbeat echoing loudly around her skull, slower and slower and slower- _

 

-0-

 

The train ride only added to his anger. Too many people, too hot - one man made the mistake of accidentally shoving his shoulder and Shizuo sent him flying to the floor. By the time he arrived outside the now-familiar high-rise, his face was crimson and his hands were shaking around the cigarette in his mouth. He pounded his fist onto the buzzer next to the elevator and leaned heavily against the wall. 

 

‘ _ Shizuo. Wait there, I’ll send the lift down’.  _

 

Mechanical whirring sounded from above and he watched as the floor numbers above the doors light up as the elevator moved smoothly down to his floor. The sound of gentle footsteps echoed from behind him and when he turned to find the source of the noise he saw an attractive brunette crossing the entrance hall, clutching a bag close to her chest. Must be another person who lived in the high-rise, he thought to himself. As she headed toward a door on the opposite side of the room to the elevators, her dark eyes met Shizuo’s gaze. She paused her movements, looking the blond up and down and her mouth fell open slightly.

 

“You need a keycard to use the elevator,” she stated, bluntly. Her voice was monotone, her face unexpressive - she reminded him somewhat of Vorona. He felt his heart ache a little at the thought of his friend but he swallowed his sadness in front of the stranger and nodded. 

 

“I know. I’m waiting for the lift to come down from the top floor. Thanks though.”

 

“Orihara’s guest?” the woman tilted her head to one side and her eyes narrowed a fraction. Shizuo nodded and she snorted derisively. “I see.”

 

Shizuo gave her a half-smile. “You know him?”

 

“Unfortunately,” the stranger nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “I have things to do.”

 

“Sure,” Shizuo replied. Her reaction confused him a little, the distaste she felt toward the informant was obvious from her wrinkled nose and clenched jaw. “Have a nice night.”

 

She turned on her heel and headed through the unlabeled door, long hair swinging delicately behind her. “It was good to meet you.”

 

The door swung shut behind her as the detective turned his head back to the lift doors just as they opened, shaking his head. She was oddly familiar but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her face before. Strange woman, he thought. Her departing words were particularly odd, spoken as if she was already aware of who he was. Shaking away the useless thoughts, he stepped inside after flicking his cigarette into a nearby bin and took in a deep breath as the capsule doors slid shut. The lift rose quickly to the penthouse, sending his stomach rolling uncomfortably with nausea. Shizuo grunted and leaned back against one of the wall. He shouldn’t drink, there was far too much to do, but he desperately needed something to stop his fingers from trembling. A buzzer sounded and the doors slid open to reveal the corridor leading to the front door of the informant’s apartment. The hallway was darkened, as it had been the first time he visited the place and the only light came from the open door at the end. A figure stood in silhouette in the centre of the frame, a long, thin strip of darkness in the light. Shizuo stepped out of the lift and headed toward the figure, squinting in the dim to make out its features. 

 

“Shizuo,” Izaya greeted. He stepped to one side to allow the detective to pass into his apartment. “Would you like tea or liquor?”

 

The blond turned to look at him as he closed the door and a brief, vague smile crossed his lips. He shouldn’t have been smiling at a time like that but his head was overflowing with such grief and anger that the teasing, innocent question affected him. As the lock of the door clicked shut, Shizuo found that he couldn’t stop himself, he strode forward and wrapped his arms around Izaya’s shoulders. He wanted comfort, he wanted to forget about the monstrous world outside and his place within it. The informant tensed, the blond could feel his muscles stiffen almost the instant he was touched but he didn’t let go. Instead, he buried his head into the juncture of the smaller man’s neck and screwed his eyes shut, revelling in the comfort of the intimacy. Izaya hesitated for a moment before lifting his arms so that he could place them around Shizuo’s hips and lace his fingers together at the small of his back. 

 

“Someone’s affectionate,” Izaya hummed. One of his hands trailed up Shizuo’s back and spread out gently over the back of his skull. The blond let out a deep sigh, relaxing a little due to the warmth of the other man’s body. If only he could stay there, if only he didn’t have to resurface and deal with the shit that reality had dealt him. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Vorona-” he began, hoarsely. He paused, trying to piece together his addled thoughts. How could he explain what had happened, he could still barely believe it himself. Slowly, he moved out of Izaya’s embrace and stepped backward so that he could observe him with weary eyes. “She’s dead. I caught the wrong person.”

 

“She’s dead?” the informant asked, eyes widening in surprise. “What do you mean? Haruna-”

 

Shizuo grit his teeth together and his jawbone stood out prominently from beneath his skin. “Haruna may have been guilty of a few of those murders but she wasn’t the one I was looking for.”

 

Izaya frowned and walked past Shizuo so that he could sit down on the sofa in the main room. The blond took a seat opposite and shed his coat over the back of the chair. The informant stared at him from across the coffee table, his chin resting delicately on his knuckles. He looked deep in thought, there was some unknown emotion evident in his eyes. Just as the unwavering gaze began to make Shizuo uncomfortable, Izaya sighed and looked down at the floor. 

 

“Can I get you something to drink? You look like you need it,” he asked, pursing his lips. There were dark shadows on his face as if he hadn’t been sleeping but he didn’t look tired, in fact his eyes were wide, bulging in their sockets. 

 

Shizuo nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Something strong, if you have it.”

 

“Of course I do,” Izaya answered, giving him a wry smile. He stood and moved around the sofa so that he could cross the room to the kitchen. Though he was out of sight, Shizuo heard his voice call out. “So, what happened?”

 

The detective heaved a sigh, leaned back into the cushions of the armchair and began to speak. He told of the train ride home, of the strange woman watching him, of the head on his kitchen counter. Izaya passed him a glass of whiskey and listened intently as Shizuo raged about being taken off the case, about Haruna’s suicide, about his desire to catch and kill the piece of shit who killed his friend. By the time he’d finished his rant, he’d finished his drink, so the informant quietly began to pour him another. 

 

“I’m sorry for your loss, Shizuo,” Izaya said, softly. He placed the bottle on the table and leaned back in his seat. A small smile stretched over his face and he peered up at the detective through his lashes. “I presume you want my help, seeing as you don’t have access to the Force’s resources at present.”

 

Shizuo let out a short breath through his nose, clearly irritated by the situation. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But I-”

 

“Of course I’ll help,” Izaya snorted, waving a hand carelessly in the air. He took a sip of his own drink and sent a wink at Shizuo. “You know my payment terms already.”

 

“I-ah, um-” Shizuo mumbled. He took another large gulp of whiskey and hissed as the bitter liquid ran down his throat. It was only his second glass but it was strong, he was already feeling rather foggy. Izaya’s mouth was raised at one side suggestively, eyes narrowed slightly and the blond felt his cheeks flush with heat. “Thank you Izaya. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

The informant chuckled under his breath and leaned forward so that he could rest his elbows on his knees. He rested his drink on the coffee table but kept his fingers splayed around the rim, slowly twisting the glass it round and round. “I wonder. Now, first off - tell me about the scene at your apartment.”

 

“It was- it was fucking horrible,” Shizuo mumbled, lacing his hands together in his lap. He winced at the very memory of the crime scene. The slack-jawed, horrified expression on Vorona’s face 

 

The detective chewed the inside of his bottom lip and looked down at the floor so that he could gather his thoughts. His hands had stopped shaking, the alcohol seemed to have numbed them entirely. Shizuo frowned and flexed his fingers slowly, concerned by the lack of response from his muscles. 

 

“You said there was blood on the wall,” Izaya said, trying to get the blond’s attention. 

 

“Was uh-” he began. His eyelids felt heavy, each blink seemed to take an age. “Above the sink. Lots of blood…”

 

“What did it say?” the informant asked, taking in a shaky breath. Shizuo’s head lolled forward, neck muscles refusing to hold it up any longer. “What did the blood say?”

 

Shizuo’s lips twitched down into a slight frown. He hadn’t said anything about the message yet. “How’d y-”

 

Izaya leaned across the coffee table and took hold of Shizuo’s face, his palms cupping around his flushed cheeks. “And the head? What about the head?”

 

“I feel...strange,” Shizuo mumbled, his speech slurring. The glass of whiskey slipped out of his slack fingers and smashed onto the ground between his feet. He managed to turn his sluggish gaze up to look at Izaya and was surprised to find him grinning down at him, eyes shining with excitement. “Wos’ goin’ on, Iz-”

 

“Tell me about Vorona’s head,” Izaya breathed. He leaned closer and pressed his lips against Shizuo’s open mouth, feverishly kissing the man’s numb face. The blond tried to pull back but his muscles wouldn’t react and his vision was blurring and the room was spinning. Izaya pulled back and tapped his hand gently against one of Shizuo’s cheeks. “C’mon, Shizu-chan. It was beautiful, wasn't it? Tell me, won’t you? Did you think it was lovely?”

 

The nickname rolled off his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he’d said it hundreds of times before. Shizuo felt his stomach turn and, had he not passed out a few seconds later, he would have thrown his guts up all over the laughing man cradling his head in his hands. 

 

 


	15. Bestia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, long chapter here. Buckle up chaps, big fight scene next. 
> 
> And then, you may see a Shizuo and Izaya that you recognize a little better...
> 
> Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos! I really do appreciate every one. :)

When Shizuo woke his head was pounding so hard he mistook it for a hangover at first. It was only after he opened his eyes that he remembered exactly where he was and what had happened. He wasn't sat in the armchair anymore, in fact he wasn't even in Izaya’s apartment by the look of it. It was a long room, windowless, damp, lit only by three barely-there bulbs hanging from the ceiling.  His arms were locked behind his back in some sort of device and due to the awkward position and the lingering effects of the drug in his drink he couldn't free himself. The device was tethered to the wall by a short, thick chain which stunted his movements considerably. Shizuo pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the stone wall behind him which dripped with condensation. It was strangely hot and as his eyes adjusted to the dim, he noticed a set of furnaces lining the wall opposite him - it was a boiler room. 

 

He groaned and leaned his head back so that it rested against the wall. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? How could he have been so  _ blind _ ? It was Izaya, Izaya playing him, Izaya killing, Izaya kissing him and comforting him with the same hands that's ripped off his best friend’s head. Anger burned inside him - the fucking bastard would  _ not _ get away with this. He would kill him, he’d tear him to fucking shreds, consequences be damned. Izaya wanted a monster, he would fucking well have one. 

 

“Shit, ah-” he groaned, pulling against the restraints. They wouldn’t budge, no matter how much weight he put onto the chain. Usually he would be able to tear the links straight out of the wall, he’d probably be able to burst out of the contraption locking his arms together without even breaking a sweat but the way his elbows were twisted together made it harder to move and the drugs made it feel like he was moving slowly through water. After a while he collapsed back onto the floor with an exhausted sigh. He needed to get out of here, he needed to keep calm, get it together. 

 

The sound of a door screeching open drew his attention and he turned his head to see the woman from the lobby striding toward him. Quickly, he scrabbled to his feet, though the short chain only allowed him to crouch in a stooped over position. She had donned a pristine white lab-coat since he'd last seen her and she was carrying a wicked looking blade in one hand. Shizuo grit his teeth together as she drew nearer - she was the woman from the train, now he remembered. 

 

“You. Where’s Izaya?” Shizuo snarled, trying to pull away from the wall without success. 

 

She looked down at him with disgust, as if he were a rabid dog. “He’s busy sewing.”

 

“Sewing?” he repeated, confused. 

 

“Yes, sewing.”

 

Shizuo snarled at her and pulled against his restraints. He jerked forward as far as the short chain allowed him but the woman didn’t look in the slightest bit afraid. His body was still reeling from the effects of the cocktail of drugs he’d been given so after a moment he collapsed onto one knee, panting from the exertion. 

 

“I wouldn’t try to move too much, you’ll be sick.”

 

“Fuck you. Who the fuck are you anyway  - Izaya’s girlfriend?” he asked, snidely. 

 

The woman laughed derisively and stopped a few feet in front of him. She flicked her hair over one shoulder and folded her arms across her chest. “As if. Unlike  _ you,  _ I have a decent taste in men.” 

 

Shizuo scowled darkly and bore his teeth at her.  His head was still spinning but he managed to muster the anger to pull himself onto his knees. “Accomplice then?”

 

“Not exactly,” she said, tetchily. “I'm not exactly what you'd call ‘willing’.”

 

The blond sat up straighter and groaned as pain shot down his arm. “What's going on? Why is he doing this?” 

 

“I think I should let him explain that to you,” the woman answered. She stepped forward and dropped to her knees beside him, brandishing the knife in front of her. “Now look, I'm not going to stab you, I just need to remove your shirt. You can either let me and I'll answer some of your questions, or I can knock you out with drugs again and do it that way.” 

 

“Why are you taking off my shirt?” the man asked, lowering his voice. Namie didn't appear to be in on whatever this was, not properly. That didn't mean she wasn't an accessory, but clearly she didn't mean him any harm. Still, it wouldn't do to let his guard down around anyone. 

 

“I need it out of the way.”

 

Shizuo growled under his breath but nodded and rolled his head to one side so she could begin cutting through the collar of his jumper. “Whatever. What's your name?” 

 

“Namie,” she replied, absently. Her precise slashes soon tore through the front of his jumper and she moved to remove the arms. “What's yours?”

 

“Shizuo, but I think you already know that,” he stated, with a sigh. “Did you kill my friend Vorona?” 

 

Namie shook her head and met his gaze briefly. Her eyes were cold but he could read the honesty in them in a way he never could with Izaya. “No. I've never killed anyone. Not with my own hands.”

 

The latter part of her sentence was telling but didn't press the topic. “Did Izaya?” 

 

“What do you think?” 

 

The detective swallowed thickly and tried to keep still as she pulled off his jumper, leaving him in his undershirt. His stomach pitched, bile rose in his throat and he swallowed the bitter liquid to prevent it from spilling out of his mouth. That same man he’d held onto for comfort not long ago, that same  _ bastard  _ who he’d kissed and cared about was the same person who’d slaughtered Vorona and splattered her blood over his walls. It seemed almost too absurd to be true but there was no way it could possibly not be. Why else would he be drugged up to his eyeballs and chained to the wall in some grimy basement? 

 

“I'm gonna fucking kill him, I'm gonna kill him.”

 

Namie laughed unpleasantly and threw the ruined jumper behind her. She raised the knife again and pressed the flat beneath the right strap of his vest. An easy tug sliced straight through the thin material and it hung limply over his pectoral. “If you do, I'd like a front seat to the show.” 

 

“You don't like him at all, do you?” Shizuo asked, confused. 

 

“Why would I? Why would anyone? He's a shitty person, not to mention a  _ serial killer. _ He plays with people, knows them too well, and people always do exactly what he wants them too. Just look at you,” she said, irritably. Her face softened a little as she cut through the other strap of his undershirt. “Look at me.”

 

Shizuo rolled his head back to peer down at her. “What did he do to you?”

 

Namie pursed her lips and stripped him of the last scraps of fabric. Her eyes narrowed with curiosity and she lifted a hand to drag her nails lightly across his exposed torso, just under the muscle of his left pectoral. The blond tensed, skin tingling where her touch fell. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It does,” Shizuo insisted, angrily. “Why are you helping him? What the fuck is going on?”

 

“I should let Izaya explain, partly because I don't understand his intentions,” she answered, absentmindedly tracing patterns across Shizuo’s chest. The best entry point, the location of the major arteries, the shape of his heart. She frowned and her gaze shifted up to his face. “It's a shame. You would have been a fascinating subject to study. Your body is truly an amazing thing.”

 

Shizuo huffed a laugh as she retracted her hand and he relaxed a little against the cold wall in its absence. He paused and looked back down at Namie, her words sinking in. “ _ Would _ have?”

 

“I'll kill him one day,” Namie stated, her tone entirely missing any form of emotion. But quite opposite to that - her eyes were smouldering with hatred. She avoided his question but the implication was obvious. “Just so you know.”

 

“Why not now?” Shizuo asked, leaning forward as if that would assist in his imploring. “Let me out of this, I'll tear the little shit to shreds. You can have his head for all I care!”

 

The woman’s brows knitted together but she didn't reply. She didn't move. Then, there was a brief flash of uncertainty in her gaze and Shizuo felt his heart pound anxiously against his chest. Namie raised a hand and placed it back on his chest, expression relaxing into one of misery. 

 

“C’mon, you can-”

 

“I can't,” she answered, quietly. Her hand dropped back down and she placed both of them into the pockets of her white coat. Before Shizuo could react she’d jabbed her hand forward and stabbed an auto-injector into the side of his throat. He let out a garbled moan and felt a familiar numbness seeping through his veins. “I have my own reasons for being here. I just- I’m not a very  _ good  _ person. I'm sorry, Shizuo.”

 

“That's enough, Namie,” came a voice from the doorway. They both looked up from the floor to see the informant striding toward them. He’d donned his coat since the last time Shizuo had seen him and despite the heat of the boiler room he looked totally at ease. With a low chuckle, he raised his arms out to his sides and waved them up and down happily. “Go, before you do something stupid. I told you not to talk to him, didn't I?”

 

“Fuck you,” she replied, still staring at the blond. Her mouth was turned down in an unhappy frown. After a moment she drew the injector back and tucked it in her pocket. “It won’t knock you out like last time, it’s a smaller dose. But you shouldn’t feel anything.”

 

“Na-mi-e,” Izaya sang, his tone both jovial and threatening. 

 

Namie stood up and gave one final, blank look to Shizuo before she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. On her way she slammed the knife, flat side down, into Izaya’s chest, trying to force him to take hold on it. “Shut up, dirtbag.”

 

The knife clattered to the ground when she let go of it and stomped out of the door. Izaya hadn't taken his eyes off Shizuo since he’d entered the boiler room but his gaze drifted briefly to the blade before settling back on his captive. 

 

“She’s so mean to me,” he sighed, dramatically. “I cannot fathom why she hates me so much.” 

 

Shizuo glared at him, arms straining against the cage that held them as he desperately tried to free himself. The haze of drugs started to further cloy his mind and relax his muscles to the point that he felt like a useless bag of bones. As someone who had never been overwhelmed, who’d never been the weaker force, he couldn't help but feel nervous about the first prickle of fear that ran down his spine. Izaya’s demeanour was bizarre, a more extreme caricature of the mildly negative aspects Shizuo had noted from their first meeting - that smirk, the frenetic energy, the violent glimmer in his eyes. 

 

“How-” the blond stopped himself before he finished the sentence.  _ How could you do this to me?  _ Izaya smiled anyway, like he could read Shizuo’s mind and the detective bore his teeth angrily in response. “I'm going to  _ kill  _ you.”

 

Izaya tutted and rolled his eyes condescendingly. “Now, now, Shizu-chan, I don't think you're in any position to be making such unpleasant threats.”

 

“I'm going to rip your shitty fucking head off and ram it up your a-”

 

The blond was cut off when a foot collided with his cheek and his head rolled to the side in pain. Blood filled his mouth where he’d bitten the inside lining of his bottom lip, so he quickly spat it out onto the floor. Izaya crouched down and gripped his sweat-dampened hair tightly, dragging him up onto his knees. The position was painful, his arms were locked uncomfortably in place so his back was forced to arch into the informant instead. Shizuo growled angrily as he cold metal being pressed against the side of his throat. 

 

“Don't speak to me like that,” Izaya sighed. He leaned in close, so that his nose was almost touching the other man’s. A nasty chuckle left his lips and Shizuo felt his breath against his cheek so close that he turned his head to the side to avoid the intense intimacy. “Didn’t you say I was extraordinary?”

 

The blond felt his face flush red with anger and he swung his head back around to try and slam it against the informant’s. Before he could get very far the thick chain yanked him back and his left shoulder crunched loudly due to the aggressive movement. Izaya jumped back onto his feet to avoid the blow and held the knife at arm’s length, as Shizuo collapsed onto his side, teeth grit together due to the pain running along his shoulder and down his back.

 

“Bad dog,” Izaya chided. He crouched down again, so that he rested on the balls of his feet, but remained a few feet out of reach of the other man. “Good thing I won’t be needing your arms.”

 

Shizuo gasped as he pushed himself up and slumped against the wall behind him. “Wh-what are you talkin’ about? What the fuck is going on?”

 

“Poor thing. You’ve been so wonderfully clueless,” the informant cooed. He raised the knife and leveled it with Shizuo’s chest, closing one eye as if he were aiming for a target. “I’m going to crack open your chest and take your heart. Well, technically Namie is, she’s the surgeon after a-”

 

The detective swallowed thickly. “What, why?”

 

“Because I have an end goal in mind, because you’re a monster,” he listed, casually. The blond visibly winced at the insult and Izaya smirked in response. “Don’t worry though, it’s going to be put to good use.”

 

“I don’t-” he paused, face dropping into a scowl. Nothing made sense anymore, he couldn’t see any light for all the fucking trees Izaya had planted around him. “Y’know what I don’t wanna understand. You’re insane, Izaya.”

 

The informant hummed and pressed the tip of the knife into the floor so that he could spin the handle round with the point of his finger. “Maybe a little. But hey, at least I’m not dumb enough to fall for every lie spun by a handsome stranger - right, Shizu-chan?”

 

“Fuck you,” he spat. He leaned forward, despite the pain in his broken shoulder. “I will  _ kill  _ you before this night is over.”

 

Izaya observed him silently for a moment, smiling, spinning the knife, then he settled it down on the ground and inched closer to Shizuo, falling onto his knees. “It is regretful, that you have to die. If there was any other way, I would keep you. Then I’d have two monsters to play with. And I suppose you do genuinely intrigue me in a way.”

 

“You’re a murderer,  _ Chrome.  _ You killed my best friend and countless others,” Shizuo stated, rage seeping from his words. “Any ‘feeling’ I may have had for you was a lie, wasn’t it? Because  _ you’re  _ a liar.  I want nothing more than to  _ hurt  _ you - I want to fucking  _ kill _ you.”

 

Izaya hesitated, eyes unfocusing as if deep in thought. Deep down, part of him liked the attention from Shizuo, he liked how it made him feel. For a moment, his smile dropped into a frown and he turned his gaze back to Shizuo, sad and unblinking. “I am sor-”

 

“You disgusting piece of shit, don’t you fucking dare apolo-” 

 

Shizuo was cut off by a peal of laughter and Izaya’s foot slamming down against the side of his head. The informant kicked him over and over until he was gasping for air and blood was pouring from a large gash on his forehead. Izaya stumbled back, leaving the other man bruised and panting on the concrete floor, and turned on his heel to head back to the lab. He felt strange, his hands were shaking with anger. That reaction was uncommon, despite his murderous ways he wasn’t the type to beat someone with his bare hands. Allowing his genuine emotions to seep through his carefully formed facade had been a bad idea, he felt utterly out of control, rejected. 

 

Before he left the room he turned back to the detective, absolutely seething. His thoughts were running wild, barely coherent in their form. “Y’know I had the  _ best  _ time playing with you, Shizu-chan! It’s just such a shame I didn’t get to  _ fuck _ you before you die. Ah well, at least I had fun with Vorona.”

 

The blond’s face fell and his eyes widened in shock. “What?”

 

Izaya grinned. It was a bold lie, but he wanted to rile the monster up, he wanted him to suffer. “With her body, at least. I’ll leave that to your imagination. See you soon, Shizu-chan! Try not to break your other shoulder while I’m gone.”

 

Shizuo grit his teeth together and took in a breath, trying to combat the weight that pulled his limbs down and addled his brain. He needed strength, he needed to  _ kill, kill, kill- _ that was all that rang in his ears, over and over -  _ kill, kill Izaya, kill -  _ the chorus of voices grew louder and for once, he let them take over. The cracks in his fragile mind exploded and he felt anger swelling to intolerable levels in his chest and fire raging in his belly. All human rationality fell to the back of his mind, for once it would do good to be a mindless, violent beast. A monster - right Izaya? - he thought. 

 

The chains pulled clean out of the wall as easy as picking a daisy. 

  
  
  



	16. Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one and the damn fight scene hasn't even really begun yet, dammit. We've got a bit of reflection on Izaya's youth, which is always fun. Got some Namie developement, got some monsters and fire. 
> 
> I'd also like to clear up as I think this was quite vague - the prologue is how Izaya imagined their final confrontation. That's his ideal, the dream, a fantasy. He mentions this to Namie in a previous chapter but it wasn't particularly notable so apologies if it caused any confusion.
> 
> Are you seeing any similarities between the frame of this fight with another, more familiar one? ;) 
> 
> Final part of the first half of the story next. :)

People always said they were too close. It never mattered to them - they loved one another, even if the love was considered ‘twisted’ by many. They didn’t mind if people talked, people didn’t know what they had to deal with. People didn’t have to deal with  _ him _ . Mairu and Kururi watched him quietly as he grew up, making note of his rapidly growing oddities. The odd banging sounds that came from his room, the way he sat in the garden flicking matches to the grass, those periods where they would catch him talking to himself. For a long time he was a solitary character and their house was a fairly quiet place but after Izaya reached high-school, his social life seemed to explode. There were constant gatherings, late night meetings, high-schoolers, students, adults. Mairu and Kururi stayed in their room at night after they caught their brother’s older ‘friends’ snorting something off the coffee table in the lounge. One of them called out to the girls, offering them something they’d never heard of before. Izaya was sprawled out on the sofa, his eyes wide and pupils blown, laughing at them harshly as they ran upstairs. Izaya was never a brother so much as a maniac and they hated him. Boy, they hated everything about him. 

 

Mairu hated his smugness, the way he'd ask her difficult questions just to watch her stumble, then answer them himself. He cut off her pigtails once while she was asleep. Kururi put rat poison in his bolognese the next evening. Much to their disappointment, he didn’t even get a tummy ache. 

 

Kururi hated the way he pulled out her kitten’s claws and left them on her bed. He tried to sell her to some awful looking older men for petty information when she was thirteen. Mairu stopped that from happening and almost choked their brother to death with her belt at dinner time. 

 

Their parents were never around so no-one ever stopped him from doing as he pleased around the house. He left dead animals rotting in the back-garden, their flesh peeled apart like he’d been studying their insides in great depth. He brought strangers home, men, women, and made a loud, perverse ruckus from behind his bedroom door. He made their lives hell from the moment they were all alone, so the twins stuck together. It was only when they themselves conspired to find dirt on him that he ceased terrorising them. And oh, what dirt it was. 

 

“We caught you,” they’d said in unison. “We caught you on camera doing  _ bad things  _ over a video of that blond guy from your school that you hate.”

 

Izaya had paused, then a half-smile spread over his face. “You can’t prove anythi-”

 

Mairu held up her phone and Kururi tapped the screen to press play. The screen lit up with the image of his bedroom, filmed through a crack in the door he’d forgotten to lock in his excitement. Izaya himself was sitting at his desk, face flushed, eyes staring intently at his computer screen. The video he was watching was visible, it showed the blond youth in the midst of a fight, clearly filmed secretly from among an observing crowd. The Izaya on the video gasped and clutched the side of the table with one hand, nails digging into the wood. His other hand was under the desk but what he was doing with it was obvious by the frantic jerking of his elbow. He screwed his eyes shut and opened his mouth, emitting a strangled moan. 

 

_ “F-fu-Shizu-” _

  
  


Izaya’s smirk fell, his eyes burned with hatred and he looked like he was a second away from slitting their throats - but he never harmed them again. Something about the blond guy affected him, he seemed to watch him only from afar which was strange because Izaya usually made it his business to get involved in everyone’s lives. After that threat, he barely spoke to them, barely looked at them, which was how they preferred it. Silent, mutual hatred - that was just the way things were in the Orihara family. At least the twins had one another and they revelled in the idea that Izaya had no-one, that he would never have comfort like they did. After all the years of abuse at his hands, they decided it was pertinent to make his life as hellish as possible. 

 

“No-one’s coming, brother!” they’d gleefully shout down the phone. “Better realise that soon! Or just die alone, we don't care!”

 

“We’ll make sure to spend your blood-money inheritance unwisely though.” 

 

They started vicious rumours about him online, they graffitied his name and number on toilet doors under the caveat ‘ _ will suk cock 4 $£$£$£ _ ’. 

 

Then one night, they burst into his office, intending to cause havoc, only to find him standing over a woman on his sofa. His hands were round her neck, his face was red, ecstatic and his trousers were pushed down around his thighs. Her eyes were clouded, her face was blue, swollen and one of her hands was lying severed on the floor a few feet from her wrist. The twin ran from the building before he even had chance to see who had broken in. They tried reporting him to the police but they were shooed quickly out of the station with the promise that they would look into it. To their dismay, there was no follow up, nothing ever happened. That day they learned never to trust anyone but each other. In their eyes, everyone else was on Izaya’s side. 

 

Another day, a non-description evening laying together on the sofa, Kururi mumbled. “Do you really think he killed her? Could he actually kill someone?” 

 

Mairu looked at the television, at the news running footage of sealed body parts being loaded into a police car, and pursed her lips. “I’d be surprised if he hadn’t before, the psycho.”

 

“What do you think made him like that?” she asked, running her hand up her sister’s thigh. She straddled the other girl’s hips and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Are we all fucked up in this family?”

 

Mairu sighed and raised her hips as Kururi slid her hands beneath her shirt. “I guess so.”

  
  


-0- 

  
  


The chains and contraption restraining his arms clattered to the floor, the noise echoing loudly around the boiler room. Shizuo drew in a ragged breath and pushed himself onto his feet, placing a hand onto his injured shoulder to check the damage. He could still lift it due to his increased tolerance but there were a sickening crackling noise and a lot of pain when he tried to roll the joint around. The blond growled, angered by his own stupidity, it would certainly hinder his actions. He moved forward, stumbling slightly but he carried on moving, not wanting to fall again and pass out. Rage drove him forward, though he still staggered and stopped to lean on the walls of the room to stop from falling over. The drugs were powerful, heavy enough to slow even the most beastly of men, but he forced himself to keep moving, keep stumbling, keep  _ hunting _ . 

 

“F-fuck,” he groaned, leaning heavily against the doorframe with one hand so that he could turn the knob with the other. A quiet  _ clink  _ caught his attention and when he looked down he saw the knife Namie used to cut off his clothes pressed between the door and the toe of his shoe. He reached down with shaky hands and grasped the handle, turning the blade back and forth in the light of the dim bulb above his head. 

 

The metal screeched against the floor and a blast of cold air from the corridor on the other side of the threshold hit his bare chest. He carefully stumbled down the darkened hallway, eyes trained on the dim light at the other end. To keep himself on course he ran the hand not holding the knife along the wall, fingertips collecting moisture from the concrete. 

 

The walk seemed to take forever despite the relatively short distance. At first he tried to come up with some sort of plan, what he’d do when he next encountered Izaya but his mind was addled by thoughts of Vorona, of the last time they spoke, of all those nights they spent watching bad movies and drinking with Kadota. Then of her mutilated head, of her blood. Izaya - kissing Izaya and holding Izaya and stupidly feeling that he’d finally found someone who understood him. Then the truth fit together and his imagination went haywire. Izaya wasn’t extraordinary, no - he was _abnormal_. All those victims and Izaya standing over them with that look in his eyes, that hungry, desire-ladened look he gave Shizuo the very first time they met. Vorona’s head in Izaya’s hands and then- _‘I had fun with Vorona. With her body, at least’._

 

“Kill, kill, kill, kill,” he snarled, gnashing his teeth furiously. He flicked the handle of the knife around in his palm so that the blade pointed behind him, ignoring the flare of pain in his shoulder. A vicious grin stretched out across his face as he thought of violence, of skinning the little bastard alive. God, he’d make him suffer for what he did, for  _ everything _ . 

 

The light at the end of the hallway wasn’t another door, it was a turning. Shizuo veered sharply left, his body beginning to feel less heavy than before. Something soft smacked straight into his torso and he grabbed at it instinctively, fingers catching on cloth. It turned out to be the front of a familiar lab coat, a pristine white coat belonging to Namie Yagiri. The woman hissed loudly as he dragged her up, so her feet were barely touching the floor and shook her slightly. 

 

“Where-?” he paused when he noticed a flash of metal to his left and quickly he swung up the blade in his hand to clash with the wicked looking knife she’d sent toward him. Metal scratched down metal until she was peering over the place where the blades met, her eyes blazing furiously. Shizuo smirked and twisted his hand so that he caught the handle of her knife and managed to send it clattering to the floor. Without hesitation he slammed her back into the wall of the dark corridor and held the knife up to her throat. “Be quiet.”

 

Namie blinked in surprise but her face soon descended into a scowl. “How did you get out?” 

 

“Did you forget what a ‘fascinating specimen’ I am?” he hissed, tightening the grip on her collar. She stiffened up but there wasn’t an ounce of fear visible on her face. “Where the fuck is Izaya?”

 

“Down the next hallway, first door on the left,” she replied, coldly. Her hands moved up to grip his and her nails dug into his flesh hard enough to leave white crescents in their wake. “Let me go.”

 

Shizuo leaned in closer. “Why the fuck should I even let you live?”

 

Namie sucked in a breath and her gaze darkened, then finally, a flicker of fear. “Because you’re not Izaya.”

 

The blond scoffed and released her but her knees buckled and she sank down the wall to the floor. She drew a shaky breath and looked up at him, drawing her knees close to her chest when she saw the frightful expression on his face. His eyes were wide, absent of their usual coherency and his smile was disturbingly familiar. Her heart pounded a little faster when he cocked his head and crouched down to speak to her. Izaya smiled like that. Shizuo eyed her silently for a moment, smile unwavering, then he stood upright and began walking in the direction she stated. Namie let out the breath she had been holding in and her legs sprawled out in front of her. 

 

“I’m worse than Izaya,” he called back. “I’m already a monster.”

 

Namie clutched her coat close to her chest for a moment. What had she done to get here, to be the secretary to a serial killer and surgeon to a monster in human’s clothing. She’d made a mistake, but hadn’t everyone? No, she thought, most people’s mistakes weren’t as heinous as conducting human experimentation or selling people into illegal trades. Normal people didn’t make those mistakes. Normal people didn’t screw serial killers and join them rather than report them to the police. Normal people didn’t want to fuck their brothers either. Just for a moment, Namie Yagiri allowed herself to cry - self comfort was the only kind she was going to get, after all. She closed her eyes and drew her knees back up into her chest, whispering prayer to a God she didn’t believe in with the hope that she might just disappear. 

  
  


-0-

  
  


Izaya hummed a pleasant tune to himself as he checked over his creation for the last time. The Saika-needle lay discarded in a bloody tray on the table next to him - he’d been successful in his venture to sew the Dullahan’s head onto Vorona’s body. It was lolling slightly to one side but that didn’t matter, hopefully it would right itself when it came alive. 

 

_ This isn’t going to work, you desperate little man. This is insane.  _

 

He started to hum louder to drown out the sound of the voice in his head. Whether it was that irritating conscience of his or Saika, he couldn’t quite work out but it didn’t matter, he ignored it all the same. His plan would work, it would definitely work. All he needed now was the heart. He stroked the side of the Dullahan’s face and trailed his thumb across her full bottom lip.

 

“You’re perfect,” he purred, lowering his hand. “

 

_ Do you really think you’re going to get to Valhalla? You’re like a child believing in fairytales. _

 

“Shut up.”

 

_ Isn't this all a little far-fetched, Izaya? You’re psychotic.  _

 

“Shut up!”

 

“You’re psychotic.”

 

“I said shut up!” he snapped, slamming his hand down onto the table. It took him a moment to realise the last statement hadn't come from the voice in his head. Huffing in anger, Izaya turned and the smile faded from his reddened face. “Shizu-chan?” 

 

“What the fuck is that?” Shizuo asked. He stood in the door, stock still, clearly shocked by the frightening vision of the creation propped up on the operating table. “Is that-”

 

The informant blinked, surprised by the sudden arrival of his captive and for a moment Shizuo thought he noticed a flicker of unease on his face. That was soon replaced by his usual smirk. 

 

“It’s my monster, Shizu-chan,” Izaya smiled, extending one arm with a flourish. The other hand groped in his coat pocket for his flick knife. When his fingers clasped around the handle, he giggled and took a daring step toward the other man. “It’s perfect isn’t it? Originally I had lots of separate perfect pieces but they kept rotting away so it’s just the two bits now. It was such luck that I got to meet Vorona at the train station with you or it would have taken me much longer!” 

 

“That’s-?” Shizuo trailed off, eyes widening in horror. He placed a forearm across his mouth as if he were going to throw up. “That’s Vorona?”

 

“Are you deaf?” Izaya chided. He ignored the way his stomach was churning. He wasn't losing control, he definitely wasn't losing control. “It's not Vorona. It's my monster.”

 

Shizuo lunged at him without further pause but his unsteadiness was to Izaya’s benefit and he managed to swerve out of reach before he even touched him. The informant ducked underneath another swing and Shizuo’s punch landed heavy on the wall. The concrete crumbled beneath his hand and onto the floor, a sight which sent a quiver of fearful excitement down Izaya’s spine. Shizuo swung again and managed to land a fleeting blow on the side of the informant’s side. Even though it was quick and landed poorly, it was enough to make Izaya’s ribs crunch loudly and he shrieked in pain. He stumbled for a moment, eyes watering, but he dodged Shizuo’s next attack and forced the other man back by slashing at his chest with his flick knife. The brunet wheezed and pressed a hand against his damaged side, wincing when he felt the deep indentation in his ribcage.

 

“Your strength is beautiful,” he panted, gaze dipping to the two deep slashes across Shizuo’s naked chest. Blood dribbled out of the wounds, down his skin and Izaya felt his mouth water a little at the sight. “But it's not enough. Catch me if you can, Shizu-chan!” 

 

He took to his heels and darted out of the room, hearing the monster roar and the sound of his footsteps thundering behind him. This was not the way he foresaw his plan unfolding, he almost wanted to scream at Shizuo for spoiling everything. All that work, all that planning - it was  _ not  _ going to be ruined by the pursuing monster. The heart, Shizuo’s heart had been  _ perfect  _ but it wasn’t worth dying over. Much to his annoyance, he would have to find another way of finishing his creation. Izaya felt his bones crunching in his torso as he ran but there was no way he was going to be able to stop running, so he continued on, twisting and turning through the hallways as fast as he could manage. 

 

Even with the drugs in his system Shizuo was fast but he didn't know the layout to the basement as well as Izaya and soon he lost sight of the fleeing informant. The corridors were poorly lit and even though he could hear the light sound of Izaya running, they echoed around the grimy walls too much to locate him. 

 

“Come on! Don't you want to kill me?” he called, the glee in his voice tinged slightly with pain. “It's like you're not even trying!”

 

Shizuo span around as he heard a flurry of footsteps from behind him but again, there was nothing there but darkness. He carried on forward with one hand stretched out in front of him, moving back and forth to make sure he didn't bump into any walls. “Oh, I'm going to kill you, you bloodsucking flea. And I'm gonna make sure it hurts.”

 

“Would you really make me suffer, Shizu-chan?” the voice rattled around the corridor, somewhere to his left. Shizuo turned and felt an opening in the wall which led to a room rather than another hallway. “I thought you were falling for me.”

 

The blond growled under his breath and took a few, careful steps forward. He could hear the voice clearer now, Izaya had to be in the room somewhere. The air was heavy there; moist, disgusting to breathe in and there was a bitter scent that he couldn't place. “That doesn't matter anymore. I just want to rip your spine out.”

 

“Are you really intent on killing me?”

 

Shizuo snorted derisively and flexed one hand at his side. “Nothing would give me more pleasure, Iz-a-ya.”

 

“I see. Well, that changes things somewhat,” Izaya murmured. There was a sudden shift in the air and Shizuo felt a brush of fur against his bare side. A loud, metallic crash rang out and the strange bitter smell became stronger, almost overwhelming. He turned around to follow the sound of footsteps but paused when he saw Izaya’s face, clearly illuminated by a small flame burning at the end of a lighter. The informant gave him a Cheshire grin and held the device out at arm's length. “I’m sorry but you're forcing my hand, Shizu-chan.”

 

“What?” Shizuo snarled, taking a step toward the informant. Something bumped into the side of his calve and he frowned when he looked down to see a large steel container resting on the floor. He nudged it with his foot and his eyes widened when he realised it was tipped onto its side, leaking fluid at an alarmingly fast rate. The liquid had spread out around him, all the way to the door. 

 

Izaya frowned and took a step back over the threshold. “Goodbye.”

 

“Wait!” 

 

His cry went unheard over the sound of the metal door locking back into place and the sudden roar of fire that burst from the petrol-soaked floor. Shizuo rushed backward into the corner of the room where the fire had yet to spread and looked desperately around the room for an exit. There was no other way in, or out, apart from the door across the room, through the fire. The flames licked his skin painfully, so he pressed himself further back into the wall, coughing aggressively as the heat burned through his lungs. It was too hot, it hurt, his head was swimming, vision blurry. Shizuo snarled and slammed a hand onto the wall behind him, over and over. 

He thought of Vorona, of Izaya, of Kadota, of that vile creation in the basement and felt his stomach turn with rage. Dying here would only allow Izaya to get away, he’d probably carry on his disgusting acts under the radar, he’d get away with all of it. The very idea of it sent fire running through his veins. He hit the wall again and watched as the concrete crumbled easily beneath his fist. An idea formed in his head, so he kept beating his hands against the wall, until a large crack appeared in the cinderblocks. He grinned maniacally and began shoving his good shoulder against the breach. The fire was burning into the skin of his back but he didn’t stop moving, now driven by anger veering on insanity. 

 

“Coming for you, Iz-a-y-a!” he laughed, as a few pieces of brick fell onto the other side of the wall. The flames burned aggressively against the left side of his back and he screamed in pain as the flesh sizzled but finally,  _ finally _ , he broke through and fell heavily into the corridor outside. Smoke poured out into the hallway and his back felt raw as hell but he was able to push himself up onto his feet, laughing in crazed relief. 

  
  



	17. Sordes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than usual. I wanted to start the next half of the story off in a separate chapter as there's a lot to cover. Hope you enjoy! This chapter is rather violent, so please be wary.

Shizuo laid a hand against the wall and spat a wad of bloody saliva onto the floor, panting aggressively due to the pain burning across his back. It was so hot, too hot, his head felt like it was swimming. But the flames were still growing behind him so he didn’t stop for fear he could pass out and be consumed. The corridors were all so similar that he had no idea where he was going, he just had to press on away from the smoke. With a grunt, he pushed himself away from the wall and headed for the turning in the distance. It felt strangely familiar and when he finally reached the end of the hall he realised that he was nearing the laboratory. The gloomy tunnel was filled with more smoke than he thought would have reached the area but the ventilation was basically non-existent in the basement so it was a possibility. 

 

He paused, a few metres away from the entrance to the lab. Light seeped out from beneath the door and cast strange shadows against the wall opposite. Against his natural reaction to run, he headed toward the laboratory and pressed a hand over the doorknob. A searing pain exploded beneath his palm and he drew it back quickly only to find that the skin was mottled and burned. His eyes widened and he took a step back from the door, gazing at the strange light flickering around the edges. The room was undoubtedly on fire.

 

It didn’t make sense, why would Izaya torch his own creation? Unless - maybe he’d moved it, or perhaps Namie had moved it. There was no point in trying to enter the room, not with the level of heat he could feel even through the door. He didn’t linger in the hallway for too long, aware that the smoke would soon thicken to an unbearable level. The layout of the basement was too intricate and confusing for him to gain any sense of direction, so he tried to follow the direction the smoke was being dragged in the hopes that it would lead him to the exit. It turned out to be the right decision and soon he discovered a rickety metal ladder leading up and out of the tunnels. Still, he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief, the situation was still too dangerous to contemplate safety and beside that his anger wouldn’t let him. 

 

The room he ended up in wasn’t familiar, but it only had one door so he followed the corridor down, then up, then  _ out  _ and suddenly he was back in the lobby of the expensive high-rise. There was gentle lounge music playing quietly in the hall and it was so well-lit and neat it was as if the putrid, blood-soaked basement was a whole other world. He stopped to lean on the wall beside the elevators to take a moment and assess his physical situation. Shizuo panted, gritting his teeth together as he gently ran his fingers over the severe burns on his shoulder. The skin was mottled and tender, when he drew his hand back it was covered in a mixture of blood and ash. Undoubtedly he needed to go to the hospital, the injury was aggressive enough to slow even Shizuo. But not now, not yet, there was still rage burning in his veins and an informant’s head to rip off.

 

As if on cue, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Shizuo jerked painfully upright and whirled to face the lift, just as Izaya stepped out into the lobby with a mobile pressed to his ear.

 

“I’ll be there in a second, Nam-” he paused, sensing the presence of the detective beside him. He turned his head and stared, wide eyed, at the man who he assumed was dead. The phone in his hand slid to the floor and the screen shattered with a quiet crack. “Shi-Shizu-chan?”

 

The blond lunged forward just as Izaya leapt backward, sliding his knife out of his pocket. He raised the blade and smiled, manically excited by the sudden realisation of his living. A moment passed where they stared at one another, two immovable objects intent on the destruction of the other, then Izaya turned on his heel and sped across the lobby to the exit. The detective was on his heels in a second, teeth bared, Izaya’s name bursting from his mouth like a war-cry. The informant slammed door behind him, causing Shizuo to crash through the glass into the courtyard. It slowed him down, the shards of glass pricked his ruined skin painfully, but he was too far gone to stop entirely. In the moment of hesitation, he span on his heel and wrapped his hands around the light-post situated next to the door, wrenching it from the ground with his extraordinary strength. He turned again and lurched forward, swinging the pole toward the fleeing informant. 

 

“I’ll fucking kill you, Izaya!” Shizuo roared. Pain shot through his shoulder as he swung the post around, burnt skin tearing open across the muscles of the his back.

 

For once, Izaya didn’t slip through his fingers. The light-post slammed into his side and sent him crashing into the wall at the other end of the courtyard. He hit the concrete with a vile crunch and collapsed onto the ground, crying out in agony as multiple bones snapped under the weight of the metal and brick. Izaya gasped as his face hit the floor, thoughts running haywire as he tried to work out what to do. This wasn’t what he’d planned, this wasn’t how the night was meant to go. The monster should be dead, he shouldn’t be striding toward him with the crumpled metal in his hand, eyes promising death wouldn’t come quickly.

 

“F-fuck,” he gurgled, desperately trying to push himself to his feet. His arms weren’t responding, they hung useless and broken at his sides. Using the wall as leverage he stood, legs shaking under the strain. The two steps he took to turn and face Shizuo were excruciating, he’d never felt anything like it. The physical pain was one thing, but he was also overwhelmed with  _ fear.  _ Raw, real, it made his guts squirm and the blood pump so fast around his body that he could hear his heart beating in his ears. He glanced sideways to see Namie staring at him from the gateway, mouth agape. The chance to escape was still there, so he dragged himself forward and through the gate into the street. 

 

“Car,” he gasped at Namie. The woman nodded and took off in the direction of the car-park as Izaya continued on across the road, glancing sideways at the oncoming traffic. There was a very slim chance this would work, but he had to try. He pasted a pained smirk on his face as Shizuo approached, dragging the post behind him. “Come on, monster!”

 

Shizuo’s violent glare intensified and he moved onto the road, holding the post out to the side. He looked like an animal, wild with murderous rage, too lost to focus on anything but Izaya. “Kill, kill, kill-”

 

“Do it!” Izaya croaked, trying to goad the detective further. He took a step back and glanced down the road again, at the approaching lights, then back at Shizuo. “C’mon! Do it, monster!” 

 

The blond opened his mouth to speak but before any words came out, a large, screeching truck smacked violently into the side of his body. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Izaya, collapsing to his knees with a look of relief on his face. 

 


End file.
